


mea culpa

by glassthroat



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Breeding Kink, Dante's poor desk., Desk Sex, Incest, Intersex, It'll never recover., M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multiple Orgasms, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sibling Incest, Size Difference, Sometimes you just have to write a fic about Vergil melting Dante's brain with lots of orgasms., Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:10:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23174305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glassthroat/pseuds/glassthroat
Summary: Dante thinks Vergil's cold as ice. How wrong he is.Alternatively, Dante finds out that his brother has appetites just as large as his own.He's going to have to refinish his desk before they're done.
Relationships: Dante/Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 203





	mea culpa

**Author's Note:**

> It'll be short, I said.
> 
> Just a quick little smutty drabble, I said.
> 
> Nearly thirty thousand words later....

He hated this.

It'd been exactly six months to the day that Vergil had come back, four months since they'd climbed out of the underworld itself and somehow, during that time, Dante had managed to climb back into his own personal hell. Oh, how he hated this. 

Seated on edge of his bed, Dante scrubbed his hands over his face for a minute or two. A deep sigh sounded before he was glaring down at the offending tent of material between his legs, a damp spot upon the apex greeting him cheerfully as it had been doing for the past few weeks. It'd been a long time since he'd found himself in this state. Almost as if his years and the weight of his emotions had quietly and slowly smothered out his libido until it was as quiescent and heavy as his heart. The last time he'd been in this sort of mood had been ages ago, a ghostly thing gone ... Oh... Fifteen years ago now?

Not since after Mallet Island at any rate.

As it was, though, he pried himself off of the mattress without a care for the fact that it was less morning and closer to afternoon, absently giving his boxers a tug as he stumbled out of his bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom. Not for the first time since this had been going on, Dante found himself damn grateful the shop had two bathrooms to it; one up here and one downstairs. The downstairs one was more of a half bathroom, with a sink and a toilet and a small shower. But it was Vergil's and the master bathroom was his; besides, Vergil hadn't complained about it. Hell, he'd seemed shocked he got a shower at all. But Dante was damn grateful indeed, though. It meant privacy for him.

Because, for some damn reason, being around his brother as of late was ... Irritating.

Oh, Dante had expected a little tension; his brother was a powerful devil now ensconced in his territory, claiming parts of it as his own, and that was reason enough to feel agitated. But it hadn't been like this before. They fought, sure, quiet squabbles over food and space and working out how to just live around one another yet again. The problem was, learning to live around each other once more was harder than Dante had ever anticipated.

Still, though, this wasn't that. It wasn't the need to snarl and establish that this was his place and that Vergil was going to follow his rules. No, thought the crimson hunter dully as he cranked the water in the shower on and listened to the rumbling flow of the old pipes as the boiler kicked in, it really wasn't that. It was like a current of electricity rushing under his skin, a brush of air prickling over the back of his neck. It was something else and Dante had no idea as to what it could be. But it was there in his veins all the same, a whisper of heat along his flesh that made him think of the nights when he'd been young and full of hormones and had fallen in easily with any warm body that offered itself up to him.

He'd been young, after all, and Dante knew that he had just tried things out, but it'd been a long time since he'd let anyone in his bed. A long time since he'd ever done more than date his own hand. He was ... Shit, what, forty-something now. Not that time mattered really when you weren't human and when you knew if you shaved, you'd look easily half your age - and had given up that ghost once it'd become grating. His hormones had settled and so had he but it seemed his body had missed that memo as of late. This was starting to become irritating. Like something was starting to work under his skin, leaving him with this weird ... Need. This want. This urge to go find a good fuck and get off the way his body seemed to be demanding of him.

Not with how he'd been waking up with his dick hard and with his -- ... As if the thought that led up to it alone was to remind him, that wet gash between his legs throbbed and clenched. Demon biology was fan_-fucking-_tastic. Thanks Sparda, for giving him not just the regular bits that men had, but a cunt as well. And there was an itch growing under his skin, an itch that he knew could be filled if he played his cards right with the proper sort of man. It didn't always work. He often got people pulling away from him for it when he got naked. Some people loved it. But often, most often, he had found himself pushing someone face down on the bed, fucking them, working his hips against theirs--

Fuck. _Fuck-- _his body was definitely getting keyed up and he shoved his boxers down at last, ignoring the sticky strings of fluid that clung to the cloth from two different sources. Didn't matter. Didn't matter at all, right? Of course not. Just his body being stupid and worked up over something or another and he was going to ignore it.

The water was too hot when he pushed under the spray but Dante only grunted a long hiss before cranking at the knobs to get it more temperate. And he tried to last. He did. Tried to last through shampooing his hair, the conditioning, but it was too much and his hands were drifting downwards, moving, one set of fingers curling over his own balls and, shit, had they ever been so tight? The other hand gripped at the thickness of his dick and he slumped into the wall, groaning quietly. Yeah, Vergil was still in the shop and Dante tried to keep this to the showers he took, didn't want his brother snarling at him for being too loud, too lewd, too... Whatever. But something about thinking of Vergil at a moment like this had his dick twitching in his fingers and Dante chewed hard on the inside of his cheek as he pumped the closed fingers of his fist over his own cock.

The ache between his legs was getting worse, his empty body clenching down on nothing but air and that was a frustration in and of itself. He knew he was wet, could smell it even over the steam and the aromas of his freshly washed hair and Dante debated prying out one of his old toys. That's what he'd do when the itch got too bad and he couldn't get it scratched. Good old silicone dildos did the trick, especially the vibrating ones. But, no, shit -- **shit **\-- he wanted to get off. He wanted to get off in that messy way that came from a good fuck, wanted to dig his hips downwards onto one of those fake dicks and ride it, grinding down onto the edge of his bed while he held it in place with one hand, the other fisting his cock. It'd be a good way to spend his time, to work out this frustration, stroking himself until there was the end he desired, the splatter of cum on his own chest and thighs. And for one moment, Dante was tempted to forget the shower and go handle this itch now.

He needed to get _off_.

Those strong hips pushed into that moving hand and Dante's grip tightened, flexed, tightened more as he felt the first tickles of orgasm at the back of his head, catching like the blade of a knife between each vertebrae of his spine. A dragging of electrical clicks, hot upon his flesh. He braced himself against the wall, the tiles feeling cool to his too-hot skin, body jerking as Dante squeezed his own balls and he groaned for half a second, bit down on the noise, knowing that Vergil might catch it. No, he didn't want an argument. Not with his brother. Not over something so basic as this. Not when Vergil seemed to be a cold fish in that sense of things. After all, despite his questions about Nero, about who the kid's mother could be, his brother gave him nothing.

But for some reason, for some goddamn reason, thinking about Vergil in this moment was somehow starting to do him in. And that darker part of Dante, the part of him that fed on hedonism and self-satisfaction, the part that he didn't like to admit was there, the part that thrived on blood and violence and the need to fuck after any of his jobs where it ended in a fight that got his pulse racing, got him worked up - yeah, that part had no issue with using his brother like this. There was a thump of his wet head against the damp tiles and he was gasping, jerking, his eyes clenched tightly shut for a moment. Part of Dante knew that he should probably feel guilt over this, that he should be feeling something beyond this atavistic need - but it wasn't there. Just as it hadn't been there the last time.

Spills of slick precum were pulsing over his fingers, leaving his hand to work faster over the thick girth of his dick. Again and again his hand slid back and forth, Dante squinting for a second to see the foreskin pushing up to cover the thick pink glans, seeing how it pulled back and he was groaning heavily once more despite his attempt to try committing to silence. It was impossible. Not when he could easily imagine the weight of that cool stare, see the gleam of what seemed indifference, not when Dante pictured so well Vergil moving in that flexing manner as he began his daily exercise routine. He loved watching his brother arch and stretch while he did whatever exercises he thought worked best for himself. He was -- bendy-- ... Sometimes Dante wondered _how _bendy. But it was to thoughts of Vergil being flushed after such exercise, of that pale skin gleaming with the faint perspiration of sweat, of that hair brushing over that face - ah. Now that, that was the trick. Dante would stare for Vergil was a work of art when he moved through his exercises and, the hunter had to admit, the amount of bending and movement that Vergil could move through was amazing. 

But what was more was how Vergil would look after his exercises, skin flushed pink with exertion and glossy with sweat while that thick white hair would fall in mussed straggles over his features. He thought of that, of how Vergil would sometimes undo his vest to some degree, thought of the wedge of skin and collarbone that would be exposed for his eyes to feast on, would think of the low grunts that Vergil would let out, thought of the way his brother's chest would heave. Dante thought of how every bit of his brother was something to be admired, from those broad shoulders down to the long legs that lifted and flexed and, somewhere in the back of his mind, a tiny voice whispered that it wouldn't be bad to see what Vergil would look like post-fuck. And all of a sudden, the mental image of his brother freshly fucked out, of him gasping with the pleasure of orgasm, of him shuddering and arching upwards as those heavy balls tightened -- that had him shuddering and bucking forward, thick white splattering over his own palm and he sagged even as he fisted himself tight enough to make it hurt. To make it _burn_.

"F -- fuh-- ... Uuuuuuhck--"

The high didn't last. It never lasted, sure, but what seemed odder and odder was, as of late, it was like what he did to himself just wasn't working. Like it wasn't good enough to just use his own hands, that he needed something else. There was an itch in him that needed scratching, so it felt like, and Dante could feel that deep in his cunt. His woefully empty cunt, an itch so deep and so strong he wasn't sure his fingers would be able to reach it. For one brief moment, he debated not going downstairs. He debated going back to his room and not coming out until he'd gotten this urge satisfied. Dante doubted that Vergil would say anything, but there'd be that disapproving look all the same, that persistent icy indifference that drove Dante wild. If he thought it would mean that Vergil would do something, if his brother would... -- Would what? Who knew, who fucking knew. Would he even respond to it at all? Maybe he would've done what he was thinking of if he thought it'd inspire something in his brother. But no, Vergil would just glare at him for a moment before deciding to tell him he was being obnoxious or perverse. And then he'd probably scold Dante for being late to eat.

Strange how that thought irritated him. But then again, Dante figured that Vergil had to give in to his urges once upon a time. He saw it as some kind of clinical detachment from the event though, where Vergil was concerned. He couldn't see Vergil randomly curling over some strange woman with passion in his eyes, with her nails biting into his back as he fucked into her, with his mouth on her throat, his hands on her tits, squeezing and kneading -- not him. Not that brother of his who wouldn't know any hint of libido even if it sprawled naked in front of him, all ready and willing to get fucked. Yeah. Yeah, no, that wasn't Vergil. And Dante found himself irritated by that too. What sort of person could ever have gotten his brother to bed them? He knew Nero's age and the thought of Vergil doing that at all, of doing something to ensure that he'd have ... Have what, a legacy of his own? Who knew. The logic his twin operated by had been so unknowable for so long. But the irritation he felt had managed to do a better job of cooling his body down than anything else had thus far. It was with low cursing under his breath that Dante finished up his shower and snapped the water off with harsh jerks of his hands on the temperature knobs.

It was easy enough to towel off after that, rubbing the material over his skin to get up all the water that had settled into the nooks and crannies before heading back to his bedroom. He had no plans for today, no jobs, nothing like that. He wanted one, sure, maybe it'd get this urge out of his system, his body, but the idea of leaving Vergil at the shop, alone, didn't sit right either. Call it old habits. Call it what you will. Call it abandonment issues galore. But Dante just couldn't trust that Vergil would still be there when he got back. Better, honestly, for everyone if he could sit on his brother and ensure that he wouldn't be going anywhere. Vergil hadn't shown any signs of wanting to leave for anywhere else and seemed more than content to remain at the shop for the time being -- but old habits died very hard and he would be damned if he ever gave the older man a chance to do so. Again. No, Dante thought to himself, he wouldn't ever be giving Vergil a chance to slip off and out of his life ever again. Not if he could help it. 

Of course, if Vergil wanted to leave, all he had to do was wait until Dante was on one of his jobs. And while the younger man didn't feel good about leaving him alone, he'd usually call Nero and get him to go to the shop to keep an eye on his old man. Used the excuse that Nero could bond with Vergil to make him stick around. Of course, the visits from the young hybrid were few and far between, but he got there when he could. Yet, Nero couldn't always be there. And about a month back, when Dante had gotten home from a very grueling week-long job, he'd found Vergil was gone. Panic and resignation had both twisted in him and he'd been unsure of what to do. Dante had even gotten himself working towards the idea of going to the bar and drowning himself for a while when his brother had entered through the back door of the shop, grocery bags in his hands and a rather bemused look on his features. At least he'd tolerated Dante grabbing onto him and holding him for a few minutes before pushing him away. But it'd scared the hunter bad enough he'd been letting jobs slip off to Lady or Trish or Nero. He just couldn't do it. He couldn't risk having Vergil leave him.

So it was that with a loose t-shirt on his upper half and simple track pants covering his legs that he headed down the hall and down the stairs, nose catching hints of whatever Vergil had made for breakfast or lunch. It was too early to call it dinner, true, but he didn't care. Dante's sleeping habits were awful as it was. Some days he didn't get a lot of sleep, busy being high on some kind of manic energy that persisted for a day or three until he finally felt relaxed enough to sleep. Others were days where he could barely pry himself out of bed. There was a term for that but he didn't acknowledge it. Hell, he never would. Not him. He was the cocky self-assured guy who laughed in the face of danger and knew that to bring out anything besides that wouldn't be what others would expect of him. Whatever the case, though, the food smelled good. That thought registered even though his nose caught the aroma of lemon and pine scents of the cleaners that Vergil so favored using. And that was another weird thing in and of itself. 

The idea that Vergil cleaned. 

Ever since they had gotten back, his organized chaos of a mess had been chipped away at slowly but surely. The wood paneling on the walls had been polished. His chair had been wiped down. Even the rugs, the throw ones, had been taken out and beaten to within an inch of their life to get rid of all the dust they'd gathered. The hardwood floors gleamed and glowed and the baseboards had been all but sanitized. Whether it was because Vergil hated a mess or because he had nothing to do but clean, Dante didn't know. But his brother liked it and if making things clean meant that he was happy, if it meant that Vergil was content enough to stay, then he couldn't complain too much. Besides, the jobs he'd gotten since they'd come back? Well, the clients seemed impressed by how professional things looked. He had seen Vergil giving the pinups he kept a wry stare, had seen his brother attacking the piles of pizza boxes and bottles alike, had watched things disappear into great black garbage bags. But their biggest row had not come about until he'd found that Vergil had attacked his bar.

Hundreds of dollars of liquor, gone.

He'd been out on a job, had come back home, had found that Vergil had dumped his booze down the goddamn drain. Not all of it, no. He'd left the sealed bottles alone but what had once been a fine and extensive collection was much reduced now. The argument that had exploded between them had been nasty, Dante defending his life and his choices, snarling that Vergil had no right to come swooping back in and decide what was best for him. The look his brother had given Dante in response to those words had been quietly withdrawn and that, too, had agitated the crimson hunter far more than he cared to admit to. By what right did Vergil have to dictate anything in his life when he'd been gone for so long? They'd both gone to bed bitterly angry. Or at least Dante had. He found that bitter anger was better than the apathetic front Vergil put up. And if he'd upset his brother, then fine. Good. It was the least he deserved for getting rid of all that alcohol that Dante had collected. He'd even had a fine old scotch he treated with respect in the mix, one he'd been working on for a few years now, that had disappeared.

His papers had been organized, his take-out menus disappeared, and even his clothes had been thoroughly laundered. He'd told Vergil to stay away from his closet especially after the incident with his liquor. And while Dante hadn't missed how Vergil had looked at the ensembles he kept in that silently judgy way he had, sure, they were clean now. And while they were, indeed, clean - hell, Dante was annoyed he'd done that in general. His brother was acting like a goddamn maid or something. And not for the first time, it irritated him that his life had been so turned around by his brother coming back. Yes, Dante could admit he'd missed Vergil and had more than a few nights where he'd wound up soaked in booze, begging the universe to give him one more chance, one more opportunity to see him. But Dante hadn't ever anticipated this being the result of things. If he'd known that his brother would swoop in and dismantle everything he knew, every bit of chaos and messiness and impose his own ideal of order onto things, he might've just tossed him back into hell for the sake of it.

Today was no different, it seemed, but his irritation in the shower was bleeding through to the mood as of now which was... Odd. Usually, getting himself off left Dante relaxed, lazy, content even; but not today. Something about today had his hackles up and he knew he might be spoiling for a fight. Better to keep it quiet, though. Yet the idea of having one of those meals suddenly didn't appeal and he had been good about not having any pizza for a couple weeks at least. But he didn't want whatever Vergil had made for food today. He wanted his greasy cheesy goodness. And said culprit of turning his life upside-down was busy sitting on a couch ( his well cleaned couch ) reading a book. Vergil had cracked open a couple of windows, just enough to create a flow of air that reduced the heat of the day, and the air drifting in smelled wet with the promise of rain. And overlying all those scents were the ones he just couldn't ignore, no matter what he tried as of late. Some days he tried harder than others but they were there all the same, just waiting for him to give those aromas attention that he wasn't sure that they ever deserved. But no matter what he did, Dante remained highly aware of his brother's aroma, of the soft tang of ozone and the dry crackle of lightning-edged heat that he bore.

Right then, all Dante truly wanted was to get his hands on a pizza as he told himself. So he ignored his own instincts as he had many times before now, namely over the last week or so, and he drifted towards his desk with full intent to call the nearby pizza joint, not noticing how Vergil's head shifted and rose when he passed in front of one of the windows. The breeze was a constant thing, the flow of air working through the room leaving it pleasantly cooler than he expected. Hadn't the ancient cultures had something like this going on? Something about air flow and whatnot, structures and rooms designed to encourage the stream of breezes into moving in order to keep things cooled down. He couldn't remember right now. Not with that scent tickling his nose. And he knew what it was - knew who it belonged to. The hunter didn't have to turn his head to face it, not right now, not even as he leaned forward to grab at the receiver for the phone. But that smell - that goddamn smell that was all Vergil--

Dante couldn't count the number of times that he'd been by the sofa where Vergil slept these days, picking up the blankets and burying his face in them for a few moments here, a minute or two there. He liked to do it when Vergil was in the shower, taking those brief periods to simply inhale the aroma that was all his twin. Vergil smelled good. He always smelled good. The rich tang of ozone, like the dry heat of summer lightning breaking in the clouds. The heady traces of vanilla that came from the slow decomposition of the old books his brother adored. The soft creeping of blood around the edges as if the coppery fluids had been ingrained into each of Vergil's pores never to be removed. The low wealth of musk and sweat that were distinctly masculine and appealing on the levels that Dante never allowed himself to think too deeply on in terms of finding those scents attractive. All of that was Vergil, a rich blending upon his olfactory senses, even now. And while the smell of his brother had been soothing only a few days ago, it wasn't like that anymore. Not even close.

The smell only made the itch in Dante flare up to a new level, kicking in the need to get it scratched. It told him that he should probably go out tonight, visit one of his old favorite bars since he'd heard it had reopened recently, find someone who could help scratch it. At least that was a theory that brushed at his thoughts. And theory it was for something in Dante rebelled at the idea of leaving Vergil alone. Too much of a chance that his brother would leave, that panicked old part of his brain said. But this was driving Dante up the wall, this itch, this ... Weird urge to find some way to get physical, be it a fight or a fuck. Whatever was going on with his body, the hunter didn't like it. And while this odd feverish itch felt familiar, similar to the intermittent times when he had been younger and felt the strong urge to get laid for a few days straight, the sensation he'd been dealing with wasn't like that. It was deeper, more consuming, curling through his body and his belly and his groin and he grunted sharply before tossing over a shoulder "I'm getting a pi--" at Vergil. He was an adult. He could do what he wanted. Or at least he started to.

But that wasn't what had the words seizing in Dante's throat, dying out in mid-sentence as those pale eyes of his swung back over his shoulder. Somehow, without his noticing, Vergil had risen to his feet and moved to stand near him, close enough that the younger twin could feel the heat of that body close to his own. And more than that, more than that, Dante could smell Vergil this close. The older hybrid's nearness brought the wealth of those aromas with him along with that deeper masculine aroma that made something deep in Dante's body tighten up. The smell made Dante suddenly all too aware of the fact that he hadn't bothered to put on any underwear either as his body suddenly seemed hyperfocused on the fact his skin felt too hot. That his clothing felt too rough. There was an odd, insane need to suddenly twitch them out of the way and Dante squashed that urge down firmly. 

Not only that, but the younger of the two brothers could feel Vergil in all the ways in which the hunter tried to ignore. Yeah, true enough, his brother had power to such a degree now that it bled through the air and washed across his senses. Dante found himself able to liken it to the sensation of a soft tingling on the back of the neck, a whisper of threat upon the wrists, a breathy exhale across the heart ... But that was normal now, right? After Vergil had eaten the fruit of the damn tree that he'd raised, though he had admitted at some point during their time together in hell that he'd used the timing of it more than anything else, the older man oozed it. Something in Dante found it almost sexy if he were to be honest. Something in him wanted to challenge the older devil. And that same something, right now, wanted to shove against Vergil and purr because the power seemed to be soothing the itch. Dante never looked at that something too closely. Especially not now, not when he was achingly aware of his nakedness underneath his clothes and with Vergil's smell sticking to him.

However, at that moment in time, there was something in how his brother was looking at him. And what bothered Dante, what really bothered Dante, was the fact that the azure devil had gotten so close without him noticing it. Had he ever once had Vergil slide up behind him without being aware of his brother's movements? Dante knew that wasn't usual. After all, typically, even in his sleep he was hyper-aware of Vergil's movements in the shop. But maybe that was because Dante didn't sleep that fully with Vergil being around these days, too keyed up and worried that his brother would disappear on him at some point. Usually it was all but impossible for Vergil to sneak up on him, no matter how quietly he moved, because of that awareness that came with them being brothers. But somehow, though, his brother was there with a look in those pale eyes that sent irritation skittering down Dante's spine. Even more annoying was an odd hint of warmth that curled in his stomach, ebbing downwards slowly.

"... You look flushed, Dante."

Ah, how that voice smoothed over Dante's awareness, a dragging of the baritone that reminded the younger twin of silk washing over the bared edge of a steely blade, of velvet stroked by nails and stirred up. Something was definitely stirring and he wasn't sure if he liked this or not. Whatever the case, though, Dante was doing his best to brush it off and he turned from his brother's gaze after a moment of holding it, not sure what it was he'd read there. Hell, Dante could say that what he read in that stare was just him projecting. After all, he knew, his brother was not a man who would indulge in that sort of thing. Yet something in that stare that had been fixed on him almost threatened to jar that belief. If he didn't know better, Dante would almost have said he had just seen _a pointed hunger _of all things in Vergil's stare. That he had seen some kind of desire that made his chest want to heave with low keening in response. He knew that he watched Vergil, often enough, yet Dante was sure he would have noticed if he had ever seen his brother looking at himself - or anyone - like that. His brain was stuck on it, though, on the possibility he'd seen that simmering heat that looked ready to snatch the air out of his lungs if he permitted it to do so. But he was reaching for the phone when it changed, when it all changed. And what it took to change everything was very, very simple. All it was, in the end, was fingers.

Fingers brushing along the back of his neck.

Vergil's skin, just like his, was hotter than a human's would ever be and Dante had felt plenty of human skin against his own over the years. It was something that was just in their nature, in being what they were, they had agreed on as children. Eva's skin had always felt cool under their small hands as they'd discovered long ago, her body several degrees lesser than theirs in warmth when compared against the heat of her sons. And they had always made efforts to be careful too when they touched her. She might have been a powerful witch and might have somehow tamed their father - or at least earned his respect - for Sparda had been a force of nature unable to be tamed to any degree; but they had still been careful. But right then, it wasn't thoughts of their mother that clung to Dante. Not even remotely close, not with how his brother's hand stroked over the nape of his throat, leaving the hairs on the back of it to rise in the wake of that slow caress where it had settled at the apex of his shoulders and moved up towards his hairline.

There really was no word for it other than caress when all was said and done, leaving Dante's eyes to close for a second while his head tipped forward without thought to bare more of his skin to his brother's fingertips. They were rough, those fingers, on the tips. Marks of where Vergil had worked for years upon years with Yamato. He saw her constantly close to his brother, within easy reach of one elegantly lean arm that would extend without thought to caress the hilt. He'd never admit it aloud, never openly confess to it, but Dante had spent longer than he cared to think about just watching his brother's hand. Vergil had an elegant set of hands compared to his own, leaner but no less strong, and Dante's eyes would follow his brother's fingers as they eased upwards from above the tsuba to the tip and then back down. And then he'd squash the thoughts of what else Vergil might touch in that same, slow fashion that carried a hint of proprietary nature to it. Sometimes, just sometimes, Dante wondered if Vergil touched himself in that fashion, letting his hands stroke over his own body in that careful nature. If he touched his own dick in the same, slow, careful way. Those same fingers that caressed Yamato touching at his own skin; those same fingers that were now on him. Yet that touch moved slowly, easing over the stretched out nature of his vertebrae and up into his still damp hair before slowly working back down along the length of his neck and this time, when Vergil did that, he did something else. He added in a gentle scratch from his nails and that was more than enough to send a jolt of heat throughout his entire body that wound up settling right into his dick.

" V-- Verge-- that's--" 

His hand lifted upwards to try batting his brother's away, only for Vergil to hum as he caught Dante's arm by the wrist. Had the situation been different, Dante would almost have said that Vergil was grabbing him in order to begin grappling. However, the hold didn't give him that impression and Dante's focus was left bouncing between his own body and the grasp that Vergil kept on him. Somehow, all of a sudden, that hold to his arm seemed important and he couldn't put his finger onto why. It was the fact that he was being tugged around by Vergil to face him at least partially as the older man twisted the limb to rotate it and Dante's head turned sharply; just in time to see Vergil's mouth coming down as if he were about to kiss the inside of Dante's wrist. But, no, those lips didn't make contact and instead, another shiver ran down the hunter's back as warm air escaped Vergil's lungs and whisked across the nerves. Had the insides of his wrists ever been able to be considered erogenous zones? Apparently, with his brother, they were - and real potent ones at that. After all, that simple puff of air had even more blood rushing to his groin and Dante found himself absurdly thankful for his long shirt and his loose pants.

Easier to hide the fact that you were getting a boner that way.

"Hm. You reek, Dante."

And all thought of inappropriate boners went right out of Dante's head suddenly, along with the urge for pizza, as he found himself gaping at his brother for a second or two before a growl escaped him.

"I just took a fucking shower, you know! Washed myself up nice and clean so don't you say that about me--" snapped the younger heir as he tugged at his wrist. "If anything, I know I smell good right now."

"Yes," Vergil murmured as his eyes slowly lifted to meet Dante's gaze. "You _do_ smell good, Dante. Very, very good. I didn't say it was a bad smell, now did I?"

Something about how his twin phrased those words had Dante's spine prickling, leaving him unsure if it was just him reading too much into things. Had he actually just heard that low purr underlying each word that seemed to drop with a faintly filthy intent from Vergil's tongue? Or maybe it was how his brother had yet to release his arm, keeping it gently held back towards that face. Dante tugged at that still trapped limb once more before he found Vergil tightening his grip for a second on his wrist and those pale eyes met a shine of - ... Bright blue. It was a potent moment, somehow, and his eyes widened a touch as Vergil gazed at him in a fashion that Dante did not understand at first as his forebrain chose not to connect the dots. After all, he knew that Vergil was never the sort to look at someone with such raw intensity.

So why, then, did it seem that Vergil was looking at him with - dare he say ... lust? No, not him, not his brother. His brother _never _\-- no, not Vergil. It was enough, though, of a fantasy to interest his dick and he turned sharply from Vergil to face his desk once more. Dante yanked at his arm again and far more firmly than before with a low growl of sound edging out of his chest. It agitated him, leaving the crimson hunter to feel the need to twist away from his brother and put some distance between the both of them. Vergil's fingers tightened for a second in reply to that growl but just as fast, before Dante could snap at him, his older brother was letting go and Dante wasn't sure if that was a relief or not. Yeah, getting out of the shop for a while sounded like a damn good idea in all honesty after that little bit of weird behavior. He was very much feeling somehow trapped all of a sudden and Vergil's presence at his back had Dante's hackles rising. And just as he inhaled to tell his brother to back off, Dante found himself freezing as a lean hand was left wrapping around his hip and the other settled on his shoulder. 

When Vergil spoke, his lips all but brushed Dante's ear, warm breath washing across the sensitive shell of the hybrid's ear. "You seem rather tense, Dante. Perhaps I can assist you with whatever seems to be riling up your temper, hm?"

"Vergil --"

His mouth was dry, his pulse was racing, and somehow all the air seemed to have evacuated from his lungs. Honestly, Dante wasn't sure what he was supposed to do in this moment and he shifted a degree, leaning back towards those hands in spite of himself with a faint noise that was needier than he was willing to admit to making. It was certainly one that he had never anticipated making for himself, leaving the younger of the two unsure of what he was supposed to do. But there was a low chuckle of noise from Vergil in the wake of that -- well, what Dante could truly only name a whimper when all was said and done. A whimper. From him. It couldn't have been a whimper he would have once said, not from him, not where Vergil was concerned -- yet it was indeed such a noise. There was a sense of embarrassment in making that noise in front of his brother of all people, true enough. But what hit Dante even more was the fact that even he could hear a noise that he would've called desire to the sound. An edge of a hungry yearning that he knew betrayed him more fully than anything else and the realization of that somehow had the muscles in his groin tighten for a second or two as a new hint of wet slick heat began to slip from him.

"Relax, Dante. I won't bite. ... Much."

"Wh-- ... What?"

Dante tried to move in reply to those words but the hand that had been on his shoulder shifted and curled across the back of his neck, the grip of those strong fingers preventing him from turning to look at his brother. And where, normally, Dante's response would be to fight this kind of hold with everything he had, Vergil's fingers were pressed against his skin in a fashion that made the wild, crazy tension he'd been carrying somehow calm down. Maybe it was one of those weird instinctual responses, the same way that some animals would go limp when you snagged them by the neck. But Dante didn't know if that was what happened to him. He didn't know what to make of it and part of him said that he should respond to fight back somehow, but any reprieve from the strange itch that had been plaguing him was welcome. 

And then Vergil's other hand was easing around his body as his brother tucked closer to him and everything in Dante's brain suddenly scrambled to process the sudden close proximity they were sharing. It wasn't something that he had expected, not something that he had thought he would be feeling right now. But there was no denying what he felt even as his brain began to process what he could sense from his brother. The heat of his body. The smell of his skin. The gentle fragrance that was entirely Vergil. But that wasn't what had Dante holding his breath all of a sudden. Not the heat. Not the smell. None of that was what had the younger son of Sparda suddenly unsure of what was going on. No, what had him still and careful all of a sudden was what he could feel nudging against his body.

His brother -- Vergil -- he was _aroused_.

Dante had noticed that Vergil had put on what seemed to be another inch, maybe two, since they had last seen one another. But even with their differences in height, there was no question as to what he felt against that moment. There was no backing out of that sensation. He'd been with enough men over the years that Dante knew there was no denying the press of a cock against his backside. No denying the way that body tucked against his own, no denying the push of a groin full and heated against his form. It made him want to jerk away out of simple reflex. It made him want to sink back against his brother and grind his hips into that groin. And how strange that was to know that he didn't know what he wanted. 

Something in the back of Dante's head said that this was wrong somehow; they were brothers after all and even Dante, for all his hedonism, understood that this was what society would call taboo and wrong. But Vergil growled against his ear in a manner that was certainly not a sound that could wring any protest out of him and all thought of getting away was somehow no longer heeded by Dante. Something about that noise made him shudder, heavy muscles twitching once or twice as a visceral reaction echoed throughout his body. It'd been hungry, hungry in a way that left Dante reeling with shock. Hungry in a way that startled the younger twin. And that had him suddenly twisting to try getting free of that hold -- only for Vergil to abruptly shove him down with more force than needed over his desk. And that was what finally got Dante to respond with a buck and a growl, harsh words escaping him at last.

"What the fuck, Vergil! What are you doing?! Let me up!" Let him up and they'd never, ever, _ever _have to talk about this ever again. He didn't know what was going on but the way that his brother was leaning over him meant that it was impossible for Dante to ignore how that erection was grinding up against his ass - and other areas of his anatomy besides. Powerful thighs tensed as his body decided to betray him with a hint of wetness and there was a sharp inhale above and behind the brawny hunter that said, yes, Vergil had caught that whiff of wet heat. Right. He'd almost forgotten how keen their senses could be and with his brother so close, Dante knew that Vergil wouldn't miss that.

"Be still, Dante. I was wondering if you knew what was going on when this started but I have to say I don't think you do," responded his brother in that infuriating tone that made Dante want to punch him on any given day. He really, really wanted to punch him right now. It'd be satisfying. It'd be tremendously satisfying, in fact, to bury his fist in that face. Satisfying in making that proud nose flatten and get some blood out of the older man. The idea of something more violent against Vergil, of showing that he wasn't just going to lie there and take whatever the hell this was, made his dick twitch. Dante would have slapped his own libido for that because this was not the time or place for that kind of reaction. His body, however, seemed to be feeling rather contrary.

"What do you mean if I knew what's going on?! I've just been antsy! And get the fuck off of me already!" The words came out harsh but somewhat muffled given that his face was being mashed into the top of his desk, leaving Dante to push his hands over the surface of the wood and try levering himself up. The response that he got was predictable however. Vergil simply shoved him back down onto the desk, earning a snarl from the hunter. "Answer me, Vergil! What the fuck is going on! Why are you doing this?!"

There was a moment of quiet for a second, a sensation of a confusion that he could sense in his brother before Vergil shifted ever so slightly and those fingers pressed harder to the back of Dante's head. It was enough to make him wonder ever so briefly at what his brother was up to before he sensed rather than saw Vergil nod as if coming to a decision. Then a thumb, rough over the pad, was gently rubbing behind and under his ear and he hummed a low noise of sound. Then Vergil shifted slightly, bent further over him, and his spare hand was gripping tighter at one of Dante's hips.

"The answer is simple enough, but I am surprised that you haven't realized the answer yet. You've gone into season for lack of a more elegant term."

"That, like I'm a piece of meat ready to be cooked up? Just sprinkle some spices on me and make me all nice and tasty, is that it?" Came the flippant answer from the younger twin as he tried once more to push from the desk, only for Vergil to push him down once again.

"Don't be obtuse. When I say in season, I mean that..." And here Vergil went silent for a second or two before he spoke again, a low hint of amusement in his voice. That amusement made Dante want to reach back and strangle him because this wasn't funny. "I mean that your body is... More or less saying that you are in an acute state of need that won't be satisfied with something simple as a human might give you."

There was a very long period of silence from Dante before he was suddenly struggling underneath Vergil without hesitation. Even as he bucked, the hunter was tossing a sharp "You have to be kidding! That's not funny, Vergil!" over his shoulder at his brother. "I am not any such thing and that's a real bad joke, for the record!"

"It's not a joke." 

That tone of voice was what made Dante stop struggling for a moment. It was firm, unyielding in the way that Vergil took when he wanted his brother to pay attention to what he was saying for the time being. And while Dante could be flippant indeed, when Vergil spoke like that, the younger man usually knew it meant that he should shut up and listen. The younger man shifted, trying to look back towards the azure twin for a moment, that visible eye darting towards his sibling with a vaguely incredulous air. After all, it wasn't often he heard his brother speak like that. Yes, Vergil could be firm with him, could be exasperated, could be any number of things that Dante inspired in his brother. It was no surprise to him in truth that his brother was often inspired to such a state; Dante thrilled in agitating him on purpose, after all, and he truly enjoyed seeing how Vergil would look at him, all fierce anger and annoyance. It reminded him that Vergil wasn't just all ice and steel. But the tone of voice had him stilling for a second.

So it was that Dante settled for a second before he was curling his hands into fists, looking as much as he could at his brother. "... The hell are you on about?" He finally managed, shifting where he was bent over. If he could just adjust his weight enough, then he could probably mule-kick Vergil or take out one of his kneecaps. It'd be enough to get him to back off. At least, Dante hoped it would be.

"I am saying that it's because of our blood, Dante. Surely you've felt it before. The itch in your body. The heat. The restless energy and the need to be... More physical than not, yes? After all, we aren't human. But I know that you are prone to rejecting what we are as well as our heritage. You always did. Yet this is something even you cannot deny; not to me and not to yourself."

Long fingers were suddenly between them, their tips pressing not to where Dante expected. They didn't press to the cleft of his ass but below it, tucking against the material of his pants and pushing it up where he could feel himself getting wet. It was sudden enough, and with enough difference in texture and pressure alike, that Dante couldn't help but gasp - right before that gasp segued into a long, low moan when Vergil's breath washed against his ear and his brain registered what his twin was saying in a voice that was all silk and heat and want.

"You have a need to be filled, Dante, and it's not going to allow you any rest until it's satisfied. Or rather -- until you are satisfied."

"Ghh! Fuck-- Vergil--"

He didn't need to see his brother's face to know the satisfied smirk that was there, the glint of triumph in those bright blue eyes. There was no point in trying to spot it. Dante had witnessed that expression far more than he'd ever anticipated in the time since his brother had revived. Then teeth were on his ear and his brother pushed against his body once more, a slow rocking of those powerful, lean hips while his fingers slowly stroked along the cloth that was starting to stick to his cunt. And Dante? Dante couldn't recall the last time he'd gotten this turned on this fast since his teenage years. But here he was, pushed down over his own desk, while Vergil's fingers toyed with his body in a way that Dante would never have anticipated his brother knowing what to do or how and where to touch. 

Part of Dante wanted to fight back, of course. Show that he wasn't a pushover. That he could retaliate as needed. It was natural to want to fight back, especially against his brother. Any other response would've seemed almost odd. Since they had been kids, they'd done nothing but fight. Fighting was as natural as breathing for them both and sometimes Dante believed that it was easier for them to communicate through violence over anything else. That was how it'd always been all their lives. They had fought when they were kids. They had fought when they were teenagers. And even now as adults, they still fought. 

But the idea of fighting when Vergil's fingers were rubbing at his body was hard to grasp. Not when his brother had shudders jolting up his spine and down his legs with every movement of his fingers, leaving muscles growing tense and prying gasps from his lungs as he felt his groin tightening up. Blood was flooding into his cock and into his cunt, leaving the crimson hunter to feel the need to push against the edge of his desk for some kind of relief. But Dante wasn't so far gone, yet, as to hump the wood he was pinned against. Not just yet.

As much as part of him wanted to fight back, the other and currently far more vocal part of him just didn't give a damn. That part of him just wanted his pants out of the way so Vergil could get on with what he was doing.

"Easy, Dante," came the low murmur from Vergil, that purr still edging into that voice. "I will ensure that you'll be properly and fully satiated before we're through."

The only thought that burst through Dante's head in the wake of those words was distinctly pithy. It was, to sum, _holy fuck_. Something about hearing those words in combination with the fact that his brother's fingers were still stroking over his cunt only made a heaving gasp escape the lungs of the younger man. And, despite the fact that Dante was telling himself that he needed to be unreactive, his form jerked a little towards that hand. This was wrong, society would have said. They were brothers. They shouldn't be doing this. And Dante had to wonder for a moment or two just what that kind of condemnation was worth to him. Another movement of Vergil's hand suddenly dropped the weight on the side of the scales that were more or less labeled 'i don't give a fuck' because something about this felt good. Good in ways that he'd try to verbalize later.

His body, on the other hand, was far more simple and Dante's weight shifted to chase that hand as it lifted upwards and away from his groin. By now, he was soaked enough that the material of his pants was slow to sag away, glued to him as they were from his own arousal. And when that hand didn't immediately return, that sent a brief flash of unexplained fury through Dante's mood. He thrashed for a moment underneath the hand that still grasped the back of his neck, encouraging those fingers to dig in against his neck. If Vergil was suddenly backing off now after all of this, then Dante was going to murder him outright. He was going to --

All thoughts of bloody vengeance were suddenly halted as Dante felt Vergil grab at the waistband of his pants and tug them downwards without much ceremony. " Be still, Dante, " murmured the older man as he left them bunched underneath the curve of Dante's buttocks. For one moment, Dante was confused as to why they didn't fall down completely but the fabric was caught in the front by his dick holding it up. But that was not enough to distract him from Vergil's next words and Dante wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Probably a good thing, given how they sent a new burn of desire through his flesh. "I'm not going to leave you wanting. But perhaps you'll be begging for mercy before I'm through."

"Big talk, verge, if you think you can make me beg for anything," groused the younger man as he pressed his fingers against the surface of his desk. "Real big talk. I'm gonna hold you to that." He tested that grip to his neck again, but Vergil simply pressed him back down and so Dante didn't make any attempt to get up for the moment.

There was a low chuckle from Vergil as his hand slid underneath the back of Dante's shirt and his palm settled along the lower part of his spine. "I know that you will, Dante," said Vergil quietly. "I expect nothing less from you."

Every ounce of Dante's attention was suddenly on Vergil's hand for his touch had shifted. Two fingers were running down the length of his spine from where that hand had settled, dragging hints of strong nails adding to the sensation. Somehow that touch seemed to burn hotter than anything else he'd ever felt thus far in his life and Dante found his hips shifting upwards as his brother's touch slid down between the thick globes of his asscheeks, downwards, until they were pressing against his tailbone. And for one moment, Vergil seemed to consider something before his hand was moving and bypassing where Dante thought he'd focus his touch for the time being. No, what had him gasping and moving in another twitching buck of those strong hips was the roughness of those fingertips passing over slick, swollen skin. 

One thing that irritated Dante was that Vergil was prone to taking his sweet time when he wanted to. And right then, it felt like his brother was being deliberately slow about touching Dante everywhere he felt needed to be touched. And while some part of him said that he should keep fighting, it abruptly vanished as he felt Vergil's fingers sliding in between the slick folds of his cunt. It was sudden enough that the younger twin was left gasping yet again as his fingers curled over the surface of his desk, nails scratching along the top of it. 

"Fuck! Vergil!" 

The words came out with more of a whine than he'd ever admit but Dante's body was already inching towards the fingers to try getting more. A lot more. And Vergil's response, asshole that he was, was nothing more than a soft laugh of noise at first.

"You're so wet for me already, Dante." Even as he spoke, those fingers slid downwards and halted just shy of the crimson twin's clit. "So ... Ripe. " Then Vergil's hand was lifting upwards, drawing to the back of his folds and Dante wasn't sure if he wanted to cry from frustration or curse at Vergil with everything he had. Again and again those fingers slid downwards, stopping short every single time of where he wanted to be touched. There, at least. Dante could feel his dick leaking in protest and want but he had a suspicion that if he touched himself in any fashion whatsoever, Vergil would stop what he was doing until he behaved or some shit like that. "Hm. I should have done this when I began to notice the changes in your smell." 

... Funny how behaving was suddenly a good option if Vergil kept talking like that. Something about the tone of voice was going straight through Dante, both working him up and helping him focus through the haze that was building in his head as Vergil's fingers kept stroking over him.

"Wh-- what do you mean, when you began to no-- _ah-- _notice--?" Dante managed, gritting his teeth sharply against the desire to just melt into a puddle of whining hunger. He was not going to give Vergil that kind of satisfaction. Not even now, with the older devil beginning what he was doing, what Dante craved so intently. "The fuck are you--" he broke off momentarily and sucked in a breath as more pressure was applied by those fingers, as if his brother was seeking to silence him. But then again, Dante wouldn't be himself if he didn't manage to chat away even in a situation like this one. But he was also getting frustrated, both sexually and in terms of temper because Vergil was taking his sweet-ass time to get anything done; so his next few words came out far more biting than he had intended them to. Too bad he couldn't sink his teeth into the bastard because this was torture that Dante didn't even know he was prepared to deal with for the day. "The fuck are you going on about? "

But instead of granting him the answer that he sought, Vergil paused instead for a second and Dante could feel that proud head tilting. Then his fingers were pressing to Dante's body once more and he breathed out slowly before his weight was leaning over the heavier form of his brother in order to brush his nose along one ear. Dante shivered, unsure if it was because of the tease to his nerves or because of the shift in mood he sensed within his brother at that moment in time; maybe it was both. 

"I should apologize," Vergil said, and the younger of the two was glad of his position all of a sudden, because he was fairly sure those words at any other point in time would've knocked him flat on his ass from shock alone. "I simply began -- ... Taking. But tell me, Dante - tell me now if this is of no interest to you. Because once I start ... I am not entirely sure I would be able to stop. Not when your smell is so -- " Then Vergil's head shifted and a whole new line of nerves was firing to life along Dante's spine with the drag of a nose over the back of his neck. "... Not when you smell like this. Tell me to stop," added on the elder in a far softer tone, "and I will find some place else to be until this is over."

Some place else to be? That only added yet another clue for Dante, in truth. Contrary to what some might believe of him, the man was no imbecile. True, he didn't have a thesaurus crammed up his ass the way that Vergil did, and true, he wasn't one for deep thought on the surface of things - but Dante wasn't stupid. Vergil's statement of him being in season, his comments about his smell despite him taking a shower, his own body being so damn worked up despite everything he'd been doing -- yeah. The pieces were clicking together and he allowed his forehead to thump against the surface of the desk while a soft groan escaped him. The noise had Vergil twitch a little, but he simply waited to see if Dante was going to share what he'd just managed to finally comprehend. Demonic blood bullshit as Dante liked to call it. But it was, ultimately, what it was. 

"Are you trying to tell me that I'm in fucking heat, verge?"

It was just this side of insane enough that Dante felt his head clearing of the hormones to some degree, even with his brother close enough that the younger of the twins could feel every shift of that body over his own. It was enough to make the hunter want to shiver, but his own stunned realization on the fact had him trying not to groan in shock. Why did this shit always happen to him? This was almost as bad as the time that witch cursed him to have feathers shooting out of his nose every time he sneezed. A fun fact about that? The feathers made the sneezing worse until it looked like he'd ransacked a chicken coop. Lady and trish had been howling with laughter for the two days it lasted until that little spell was broken. Either way, he found his brother finally answering him, his own tone of voice a little amused and a little trepidatious.

"... Yes, Dante. That is exactly what I am saying. I did not fully realize it myself until a day or two ago and I... Thought I would be able to control myself. But it seems I overestimated my own... desires and response to your scent."

There was an implication in that which Dante refused to look at for the moment, choosing instead to focus on the fact that his brother was still pressed against him, still hard, still -- was that Vergil's way of admitting he had wanted to fuck him? Was it only this? Thoughts for later. Much later. And as if thinking about the fact that his twin had a boner shoved up against his ass was a catalyst for everything else, Dante couldn't help but groan a little as he dug his fingers against his palm and then shifted before at last looking towards the older man. Or, well, he tried to do so at least. " Well, Verge, either put up or shut up," he managed at last. "If you're actually interested enough in me to have me bent over my own desk with your dick rubbing on me, then ya better follow through on your threats here. Or should I call it your interest, huh? And if you're not that interested, then maybe I can go meet a nice gal an-- "

The next noise that fell out of Vergil's mouth sent a shudder of fear and lust running down Dante's spine as the grip on his body tightened; it had been a growl, closer to a snarl, and it had been entirely possessive for lack of a better description. Claws dug into his skin as the older devil bent downwards and when he spoke, it was more than enough to suck the air out of the hunter's lungs even as his dick jumped in reply to the implicit threat that was, in all honesty, more blatant than he ever imagined.

"If you misbehave enough, Dante, then i will have to take you in hand. as it is - since you seem amenable to the prospect of what is to come, then i suppose it is only my duty as your older brother to tend to your needs. perhaps you'll learn to listen for once."

That earned a laugh. "C'mon, Verge, since when have I ever listened to you?"

The sigh that escaped the older man was profound in the sense that Dante understood the exasperation within it, but at last his hand was moving once more and Dante sucked in air as he felt his pants being tugged at before they were sliding over the curve of his ass. He could guess what was going to happen next, sure, but what surprised him was the fact that Vergil didn't make any effort to get his pants open. Instead, that lean form was rising once more and he could feel those eyes on him before a hand was moving to push his legs apart more fully, sharp nails scratching over the inside of his thigh which in turn left a squirm taking place.

"I knew you were aroused," murmured Vergil at last in a tone of voice that had another quiver running down Dante's spine, "but ... I did not expect this."

Vergil's voice seemed to be somehow awed in a fashion that Dante had never heard from him before now. Awed and, now that Dante was looking for it, aroused. Alright, so maybe his brother wasn't a cold fish after all. Sure, it was one thing to think that Vergil could be able to be clinically detached as he fucked some random human woman to sire his son. But that tone? That was somehow different. It was something that Dante had never heard from his brother before. It was something that made him wonder for a moment. Was Vergil doing this just because he was in season, as he'd put it? Or had his big brother actually been interested in this from the start? Dante would have to ask him about that later, if he actually remembered to. Because at that moment, Vergil decided he was going to short circuit his twin's brain. 

And he did that by pressing not one but two fingers suddenly into the depths of Dante's cunt.

It was sudden enough that Dante was arching upwards with a gasp of sound, his own fingers scratching over the surface of his desk to grip at the far edge while there was a bucking against the grasp his brother had on him, a grasp that only tightened with how he writhed and whined once more. His brain didn't even bother trying to keep up with what was going on. Everything in Dante's awareness narrowed down upon the fact that his brother, the iciest bastard that he knew, had just made a move that left him gasping. The hunter's body clenched down upon those fingers and his hips were lifting without his consent as Dante pressed his face into the surface of his desk, swearing softly under his breath. Just that and he felt ready to fly apart. Just that and he understood that, yes, Vergil seemed interested -- then Vergil did something else that threw it all out the window and left the younger man howling to the ceiling. It was such a small thing, so simple, that he could not understand it at first.

And that simple, small thing was merely Vergil dragging his thumb over the hardened nub of his clit.

Attention to his feminine genitalia had always been a hit or miss thing with Dante. Sometimes he liked it, sure, but it was one of those things that had kept him away from a lot of people. It never helped either that some folks would recoil if they were to find something like that between the legs of a guy who looked the way he did. A reason why he often kept his pants on and had kept things simple and dirty in the back room of a dive bar or in an alleyway outside; easy enough to pull out your dick and get to the basics when you wanted to. Better safe than sorry, right, and just use dildos to help satisfy that greedy itch in his body. But here and now, with Vergil's fingers sunk in to the third knuckle in his cunt and that thumb rubbing over the suddenly sensitive bead of nerves? All Dante could come up with was a _"holy shit--"_ that was gasped out of his now gaping mouth. 

Well, the younger twin had always known that Vergil was good with his hands. He had seen the way they worked over the hilt of Yamato before now, the grasp that wrapped the scabbard, the gentle strokes over the blade when she was cleaned. _Shit_. Dante would never admit it out loud, but he had found himself jealous from time to time as he'd watched those ritual cleanings. But what Dante hadn't anticipated was the pressure against his clit, pressure that had his hips hiking upwards while he tried to push back towards that hand that moved so easily and neatly within his body. Hoarse moans were spilling out of his mouth by this point, leaving the crimson hunter to shudder as the fingers within him curled and stroked intently at the tight slickness. Hell, Dante could feel his own arousal running down his thighs by this point, he was so goddamn wet, and this bastard behind him was the cause of it. As if sensing his thoughts, Vergil's nails flexed and bit into the surface of his neck and Dante arched once more, rolling his hips in wanton fashion to encourage more, more, _more-- _gods, but he was aching for it.

If the noise that Vergil made in his throat when Dante writhed so openly for him was anything to go by, he wasn't the only one getting turned on by this as fast as they both seemed to be. Shit, were noises supposed to be hot like that? It hadn't been quite a growl, not exactly a purr; but it'd been there, a sound that had scraped down the younger man's spine in a near physical caress and setting his nerves to tingling. Subsonic, he would have said. Subsonic, a heavy thrum that rose out of the chest, a rumbled snarl that had made his cock jump against the edge of the desk. Hell, might as well -- so he let his body roll again and those fingers flexed and, yeah, there it was again. That sound. A sound that made his muscles tighten, leaving the walls of his body to flutter and clench around the invasive fingers.

"So eager," breathed Vergil and there was a roughness around the edges of his voice, a faint husking of what could only be a growl. "So warm." 

Those fingers shifted, pushed into Dante up, up, deeper, then pulled back. And just as Dante thought he could settle and enjoy this, his brother twisted his hand and the curves of his finger joints pushed, hard, against a spot inside Dante that made the prior disconnect from his brain seem like a simple hiccup. He shrieked without sound, head banging against the desk as his fingertips, now clawed, sank into the wood as if it were yielding clay to dig gouges into the varnished surface. 

The air seemed to be gone from his lungs, his head was spinning, and all he knew was that he felt as if he'd been punched in the gut from sheer pleasure alone. His body had agreed with what Vergil had done, though, if the gushing wetness that spilled from the depths of his slit was anything to go by. Had he actually _squirted?_ Dante didn't know if he had or not and couldn't bring himself to figure it out at the moment. He was too busy trying to remember what having a body felt like. Too busy trying to remember how to breathe.

_Fuck._

The aftershocks of that orgasm had him shaking and, somewhere in there, Vergil had bent his body over Dante's own to press him down against the wood and a rumbling growl was spilling from that mouth over his ear. If there were words in that growl, Dante didn't hear them, not right then. He was, however, vaguely aware of his brother laughing after a moment with his lack of a coherent reply to him. Alright, so Vergil had definitely said something to him and Dante hadn't heard it. But then again, with those knuckles having done that and a thumb pushing against his clit in the same motion ... Well, he definitely had enjoyed it if the way his body had responded like that said anything. But in all fairness, Dante thought groggily, he'd never really ever had a partner during this kind of thing either.

Hell, he hadn't had a partner for ye--

Awareness snapped back in a sharp instant when he found that Vergil's hand wasn't retreating just yet. No, his brother's hand was moving once more, twisting in his body and with his nerves as sensitive as they were in that moment? It was enough to draw a breathy "Fuck-- _Verge_\--" from Dante's mouth as he shuddered and banged his face against the wooden surface of his desk. Hell, he was sure that his fingers were going to cramp later from the tight grip he had on the lip where his legs usually went. But the fingers moved again and again, teasing probes of motion and he found his hips twitching, canting upwards. At most times, Dante would never have let himself behave this way. The idea of presenting like a bitch in heat didn't appeal, no. But something about having his brother behind him like this?

Yeah. That was something else entirely.

Alright, so he'd always had a complex about Vergil. That was nothing new to Dante. He'd mourned the bastard for so long that he'd anticipated, once, that he would kill him and they would end their stupid fuckery of a relationship by stabbing one another with their weapons and not in the sense that seemed to be a promise now. No, Vergil and he would probably have maimed one another to the point where they wouldn't have come back from it. If it hadn't been for Nero, Dante was sure that was how it would've gone. But now, here he was, with his brother's fingers buried in his cunt, and himself shivering from the stimulation that was accompanying this moment.

And then, of all things, Vergil stopped moving his hand for a moment and the groan of protest that escaped Dante was loud and long.

"Patience, Dante," purred Vergil. "Now then - I'm going to do something else. But I promise, if you move, I will leave you unattended. Just like--" "Like you said before," snapped the younger of the two as he turned his head enough to peer at his brother over his shoulder. 

And what a view that was. Vergil's eyes were an electric blue that was visible even in the dulled lighting of the office and the pupils were a far cry from the normally human roundness that was so usual to see. Hell, his brother's face was flushed and his lips were parted, just enough, to give a teasing hint of the sharp white teeth that were normally hidden behind them. Something he'd always noticed, always liked, had been the fact that Vergil's teeth were never quite human. Not anymore. Ah, fuck-- and then Vergil's hand was moving from where he'd been pinning his brother down with it against the desk and Dante found his interest in the situation piquing for a moment.

Vergil chose to shift away from him, crouching behind Dante, and even as Dante had to take a moment of _no he wouldn't, he wouldn't, not Vergil, not him-_\- to his own thoughts? Ah, those fingers were shifting as both hands moved and his thumbs pressed into the wet lips of his pussy. And then Dante was howling suddenly as a tongue was dipping into him, stroking downwards to his clit and his fingers were gripping at the desk so hard that he was shocked he didn't hear the wood cracking. Ironwood, he thought dimly somewhere under the pleasure that seemed to ricochet from the surface of his clit through his entire form. Ironwood. Expensive as shit. Worth the pricetag. Stood up to--

"Ohh-- oh _fu--fuck-- _Vergil! Gods-- Vergil! Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck _fuck--_" The words were falling in a mantra from Dante's mouth as he writhed, doing his best to hang onto the surface of the desk and not move more than his brother had ordered. Vergil's hands moved from holding him open as he dragged his tongue in long, hard licks over that clit to grasping the thickness of Dante's thighs and he let out a growl as he even threw in some teeth. Vergil. Teeth. Part of Dante debated on the _wisdom _of Vergil's teeth being near such a sensitive piece of anatomy. But the rest of him didn't care. The rest of him only found the threat in such a thing a turn on.

The rest of him, Dante mused, was wise. 

Vergil didn't speak just yet, too busy swiping his tongue again and again over the sensitive erogenous zone, tongue dragging in rasping wet motions between those lips, pushing inside him, returning to the clit to apply firm motions of attention. It wasn't the flicking lick that so many did, Dante had heard women complain about. No, it was slow and reverent and he felt as if he was being devoured from the inside out. Vergil seemed absolutely determined to make a meal out of him and he could not say that he was complaining either. No, not with his brother kneeling behind him and doing this. 

By this point, Dante's cunt was sopping wet and dripping with both his arousal and Vergil's saliva alike. And, too, the building of pressure in his groin was there again. His fingers were starting to dig into the wood by this point, unwilling to let go. If he let go, if he did anything to make Vergil stop, Dante knew he'd die on the spot. He'd die because this was the best fucking thing to happen to him in so long and-- and--

His brother was pressing his lips to the swollen nub of his clit now, wrapping tight around it, and he sucked. That? That was something he'd ask him about later. Where had Vergil learned to do that? As it was, he was howling again, thick ropes of precum stringing from the head of his dick to the wood of the desk where they didn't drip down to make a mess out of his clothes. His hips were bucking and he couldn't have stopped moving, not then, not even if mundus himself had shown up in that moment to slaughter them both. 

Vergil's nails - now far more like claws, really - were digging so hard into his skin that Dante was sure his brother was going to draw blood as a result and that shouldn't have been as arousing as it was. Teeth were thrown into the mix as well, the sharpness of them only adding to the eroticism of the current moment and it took everything that Dante had to hang onto the wood of his desk and not let go because he knew he'd go out of his goddamn mind if his brother stopped this right now. Part of him wanted to fight this, of course it did; his inner devil was not one to lay down and roll over submissively, nor was he himself of that nature. But more than that was the fact that his instincts were also telling him to just hike his hips up, present himself, and be mounted and fucked until his brains were dribbling out of his ears. And if it took Vergil doing that to make this itch in his body stop, well. Shit. He wouldn't complain. Not one goddamn bit.

The second orgasm seemed even more powerful than the first and he didn't even have the coherence of thought to be embarrassed about the fact that he was dripping, outright gushing, and probably making a mess out of his brother's face. All he could think about was grinding back against Vergil's features, feeling his nose pushing against the lips of his cunt, the brow of his forehead rubbing against his perineum, his lips still latched on without mercy or hesitation in any fashion as he sucked until Dante was sure he was piping out pleas for him to stop in a voice too high-pitched to be his usual baritone. If anything, he wasn't even sure he was saying anything beyond sobbing moans of his twin's name. Dante wasn't sure anymore, not with all of his senses overloaded the way they were at that point in time. If truth was to be told, he was busy flying high in the humming buzz of pleasure, too focused on letting it wash over him to come back down any time soon.

How long it took the hunter to realize that Vergil had pulled his mouth away from his body, Dante didn't know. All he knew was there was a buzzing in his head and he couldn't seem to get enough air into his lungs, feeling a heavy heat in his face and belly and groin. When was the last time he'd been this turned on? When was the last time he'd ever had someone attend to him like this? A low "fuck--" whispered out of his throat, hoarse and almost too soft to be heard. But he had forgotten about how sharp his brother's senses were because Vergil's fingers were flexing on his thighs once more. There'd be bruises on the meat of them later, bruises that his fingers would dance over and stroke until they faded because it'd been his brother whom had put them there. But then again, the bastard always did love to leave a mark, didn't he.

"I must admit, Dante - I wasn't expecting you to be making such noises. Have you been so neglected by your precious humans?" Thumbs rough with the calluses of years untold carrying the elegant devil weapon of a blade were stroking over the folds of his cunt, sliding down and up the slippery flesh. The noises told Dante that he was sopping wet, as if feeling the trickle of it down his legs didn't give it away. He was going to need a shower. "Or were you ever content to keep them away from this part of you?"

If Dante didn't know better-- "What?" He shot over his shoulder. "_Jealous_ someone else might've had it first? Don't worry about it, Verge. Most people never got to see that bit of me and the ones that did..." His voice trailed off for a moment. Was Vergil jealous of the fact that he wasn't a virgin? Then again, his brother had no damn room to talk - Nero was proof as much, but he knew that his brother struggled to remember who, if anyone, he could have bedded to make his son. But then again, with what he'd been through... "The ones that did," he continued after a second as he worked to lock his shaking knees so he didn't slide off the desk in a heap of mush. "Well, they didn't usually find it appealing. There were one or two who did, but..."

But the humans hadn't ever scratched that itch his brother's fingers and tongue seemed to be doing.

A snort was Dante's answer before his brother was speaking again. "They fail to understand your worth, brother mine. How you are an exquisite figure of power and potential alike. They would not appreciate the fullness of you the way I do." A momentary silence ensued before Vergil continued, his voice softer this time. "And perhaps if I had not been so foolish..."

Dante chose to risk being abandoned in his hour of need by twisting as much as he could without removing himself from the desk to stare back where his older brother crouched behind him, gaze narrowed for a moment. Even with the momentary abating of that needy tightness in his flesh, the sight he received was enough to make his dick jump and swell between his thighs once more. Vergil was a mess. Slickness coated his skin where he hadn't wiped it off yet, gleaming in a wet smear over his mouth and chin and even spread upon his cheeks to some degree. The usually pale skin was flushed and his eyes met Dante's own, still that bright incandescent shade that made a shiver of need ripple up Dante's spine and he let out a low rumble without even thinking about it. The noise definitely wasn't human, easing into a purr the way it did. And if the thickening of his brother's smell in the air said anything, he was just as responsive as Dante was himself.

_Shit_. A thought registered with Dante, then, a thought he hadn't had crop up before. If it'd been this long for him, for someone who was more open about being sexual, if it'd been easily ten years or more... How long had it been for his brother?

"Y'look like you're about to pop, Verge," he found himself saying. "Why don't I help you out with that, huh?" And rather deliberately, he wiggled his hips at his twin. "'cause I'm guessing you have some idea of what's to come next, right?"

Several emotions seemed to flicker over those refined features, but the one that stood out the most to the crimson slayer was the righteous indignation that worked over his twin's face in the end. He'd hit a mark there, he could tell, and Dante tried his best not to smirk at his brother. The main word there, of course, was tried. It didn't work out very well. Even here, like this, with his ass hanging out in the air and his brother's face covered in his cum ( at least one version of it. ) and those nails digging into his legs still, Dante couldn't help but work on agitating his brother. He knew why he did it. 

And he knew he'd die before he ever admitted he did it to ensure that Vergil's attention was dedicated solely to him. Some part of him was still that kid who wanted nothing more than his brother to view him the way he seemed to view so many other things. And when Vergil gave him his attention ... Sometimes that was good enough.

Of course, Dante was jerked out of his thoughts by a very direct method from Vergil. One of those lean hands had whipped back and suddenly impacted the swell of his ass and a rather indignant yelp erupted from Dante's mouth, complete with indignant squirming. Another smack ensued and a third, even as Vergil was hauling himself to stand and hooking the fingers of his other hand into the back of Dante's shirt. Those were most definitely claws and Dante barely had time for a spluttered "hold on a second--" before his shirt was reduced to a state more fit for cleaning rags. At least it hadn't been one of his favorites. 

"I can see that even like this, your mouth continues to move, Dante," declared Vergil in that calm tone that usually infuriated the younger man. Not right now. Something about the commanding nature of those words had anticipation clenching tight in the pit of Dante's stomach even as his brother's hands moved to divest himself from the waist up of any covering. He was clinical about it, precise in the way Vergil was always precise, but it wasn't a bad thing. It suited him. And it made Dante wonder how much control his brother was exerting over his own lust at that moment.

"Y'know me; can't shut up at any point in time for my own good," drawled Dante as he shifted on the desk. One leg moved at last and he was working to shake off the fabric of his clothing from his ankle, not wanting to feel the confinement. His throat worked in a hard swallow before he permitted himself to glance to his brother again. Was it the prickling of power seeping from Vergil that had his guts tightening with a mix of anticipation and nervousness? Was it that they were brothers? Was it the fact that it'd been a really damn long time since he'd gotten any kind of action at all? Or maybe, whispered his mind distantly, maybe it was the way Vergil regarded him with a predatory reverence. It was clear to Dante that, even if he did decide to bolt right then and there, that his brother would pursue him and it would end like this one way or another. 

"And you didn't have to ruin my shirt, you know," added the hunter to cover up the sudden spate of uncertainty that coiled in his chest. "I would've taken it off if you'd told me to."

"Perhaps you would have," responded Vergil, "and perhaps not. Besides, I rather enjoyed making a mess out of it." _And more than that,_ his silence seemed to say, _I am enjoying making a mess out of you._ But those words didn't fall from him and Dante knew they were there in the silence his brother offered. 

Instead, the hunter's fingers curled into the surface of the wood as his claws scraped across it for a moment. He was feeling the heat starting to build in his body once more even with the cool air in the lobby washing over his skin, tingling across the swollen lips of his cunt, over the aching hardness of his dick, teasing the sweat on his skin and balls and the dip in his muscles and he lowered back to the surface of the desk with a low groan of protest as Vergil's hand flattened against his back. His brother was still wearing his gloves and the smoothness of the leather compared to the rougher texture of his skin shouldn't have aroused Dante in the way it did - but it was there.

Cloth shuffled briefly behind him and then, at last, he felt Vergil pushing closer to his body, drawn in close as his fingers ran down the length of Dante's spine. _Hurry up,_ he wanted to say, _hurry up and fuck me, I need it I need it I need it --_

Such thoughts were there in his head before something firm was brushing the inside of his thigh, leaving behind a smear of warmth that didn't belong to himself. He was going to need a shower alright. A long one. A second one for the time being. And maybe more. But Vergil's fingers were pressing to his sides just above the curving iliac crest of where hips met torso, gripping tighter than needed as if his brother was going to flee from him even with the fact that Dante was interested in this. Maybe it was part of that devil instinct, the way to ensure one's partner of choice couldn't turn on them in the act of fucking. He'd seen it happen before with demons.

But they, the heirs of Sparda proper, were both prone to running when things began to get too complicated with one another. It was how they were. It was how they did things. Running away from one another when things got too heavy between them came with the territory since they'd become adults. Dante breathed out a sigh that threatened the borers of melancholy before finding sparks flitting down his spine with his sibling's breath washing over the back of his neck.

"I can smell you," Vergil whispered again. "You're ripe, Dante. I promise that you will need help walking by the time that I'm done."

Even as the older of the two spoke, the head of his cock was rubbing against the lips of Dante's cunt. And when the younger man tried to chase it with his hips, he was left hissing out a frustrated sound when his brother pulled back and away from him. Damn, but Dante was not enjoying being teased, not entirely. Hypocrisy, he knew; Dante was a tease himself, wholly and without reservation, aware that he was not one to talk about such things. But dammit, he wanted more. Every time his hips moved with the head of Vergil's cock rubbing over the lips of his cunt or behind his balls, the bastard would ease away from him before returning to rub at his flesh from a different angle. It didn't help that every point of contact was left wet with precum, with _Vergil's_ precum. His hips shifted once more, trying to ease backwards as he began to snarl over his shoulder towards the azure devil that was hovering behind him.

"Verge, I swear, if you don't fuck me soon, I'm going to take alastor and shove him right up your--"

And then the words were cut off by teeth in the back of his neck, by those hips lurching forward, by the sudden sensation of being filled as Vergil's growling filled the air with a thunderous nature. It was something that he could not compute, not entirely, and Dante's mouth opened wide as he howled to the ceiling of the lobby. It was such a good thing that they didn't have neighbors, not really. With the noises he'd been making, nevermind that he had put in some soundproofing, the cops would show up to knock on his door at this rate if he didn't keep quiet. But nothing could have stopped him, not with the way Vergil's cock was pushing deep into his body. There hadn't been any warning with it, not really. Fuck but that'd felt good though!

It became really clear to Dante just how wet he was with that simple thrust, given how easily his brother filled him to the brim. Muscles not used on anything beyond dildos that somehow suddenly didn't compare anymore flexed and tightened, causing a lurch of his twin's body as he thrust against Dante's hips once more in spite of himself. Vergil's claws dug in against his skin and the man shuddered against Dante's back. The younger of the Spardas couldn't breathe again, not with the pleasure that came with feeling the sheer thickness of Vergil's body buried ever so deeply in his own. It was something marvelous, a soothing of nerves that had been neglected, a sensation of a piece of a puzzle being slotted into place.

They were twins and this, this as much as anything, proved that of them both. Could he ever allow anyone else to touch him after this?

His hands were tightened fists, his forehead pushed against the wood to leave a smear of sweat behind, and Dante shuddered. The thrust alone had almost sent him over the edge once more and his hips twitched once again, not able to stop. Vergil was still, so still, that Dante could not help but wonder if he'd gotten off himself. He didn't think so. Not Vergil. He would never allow himself to give in so easily as that, not by a long shot. But goddamn if he kept still and didn't move, Dante was going to kill him. He would reach over his shoulder and find his neck and strangle his brother without hesitation for teasing him like this.

"You are --"

As if summoned by his thoughts, Vergil's voice broke the air. It was rough, it was harsh, it was breathy. Gods above, but it was a voice he had never thought to hear from Vergil. The concept that his brother had no fire in his veins when it came to sex fell apart like hot ash in Dante's mind, never to coalesce again. It was simply that Vergil was even more self-controlled and self-contained than Dante himself was, had demonstrated that up until this moment. And the man seemed ready to come apart, now.

"I didn't... expect this to feel --" Another shudder, but this time it was Vergil's body and not his own. "... Didn't... Expect you to feel so... So good. So wet, for me. So-- _tight_." 

Something about hearing those words from Vergil made Dante's body clench and that, in turn, earned a throaty moan in a fashion he'd never heard from his brother before. It was something that made his own dick jump and he clenched his teeth for a moment, unable to give up the idea of not responding. His hips shifted as he felt Vergil's fingers grow tight once more and then spoke through clenched teeth over his shoulder again.

"What do you expect-- I haven't gotten a good fuck in over ten years-- 'course I'm gonna be tight, Verge."

Silence met his words for a moment before the older twin spoke in a soft voice that bore the brittle edge of a man clawing for his self-control with his fingernails. "You talk too much, Dante."

And then Vergil's hips jumped and he was sliding back, thrusting into his brother's body once more. It was a ragged stroke, a hard push against Dante's body, deep as it could reach. He was turned on to such a degree that the wet slick noise that ensued with the movement had a shudder rippling through Dante's muscles. He couldn't stop the stutter of the growl that escaped him, leaving him to drag his fingers over the desk once more and leave scratches in the varnish. At some point, Dante was sure he was going to have to strip the wood and then resurface it.

Vergil was not skilled at this, Dante could tell that immediately with the way his brother's movements were for once nothing more than simply awkward, but there was a raw intensity to the thrusts he was moving into that had Dante's back starting to arch. There were so many ways to describe this situation and, right now, what he felt was profound. His body was loosened from arousal, of course it was, but it still remained tight nonetheless from the long neglect it'd been put through. He hadn't had a moment to self-indulge since the day that V had turned up in his shop. Not with that. Not with Nero being in the shape he was. Not with Urizen and the coma and even the time they spent in Hell.

He hadn't known how far it'd been gone from him, not until now. And now, he felt his appetite coming back with an intensity that said he would need so much more than just this. The head of Vergil's cock pushed deep into his cunt, the rim on the glans rubbing more than once over his g-spot and Dante shuddered and let out soft shouts every time that ensued. It was beyond arousing. And with his brother's hips pushing at the angle they were at, the firm ridge of his urethra rubbed more than once over the hunter's clit. And that, too, was only arousing. It didn't happen every time, no - but it was all in the way their bodies shifted in angle and the way they moved against one another. Messy, one might even say combative, but still them, still the two of them able to find the synchronicity in their motions that belonged to them and them alone.

Vergil's teeth were digging in so hard against his neck that Dante was surprised he hadn't yet bitten through the skin as of yet. But he was feeling the fullness in his groin, could hear his blood pounding in his ears, the rasping hitch of his breath. And even as he understood the signs of his latest orgasm of the day, Vergil's hand was moving from his left hip to come down and slide under his stomach, between his thighs. All it took was those fingers wrapping around the length of his cock and giving a squeeze, a single stroke, and Dante was howling once more as he found pleasure expanding through his flesh in a rippling shockwave of raw ecstasy. Thick ropes of cum splattered from the head of his dick to add yet more stains onto the surface of the wood and he was bucking underneath Vergil without conscious thought.

Not only that, but his cunt was squeezing down on his brother's dick, holding on tight and Vergil was snarling before he began to fuck into Dante with renewed intensity. The heavy smack of flesh on flesh sounded loud in the air of the office, even with the ringing in Dante's head. That hand didn't move away from his own cock, and Vergil seemed to have been given a license for a heavier movement in terms of fucking him. Those teeth bit down sharply, digging into the back of Dante's neck and now, now he could feel the flesh breaking open to leave his blood dripping over his skin in a crimson ooze and the older of the two seemed to suck at it. And maybe that was what got Vergil going.

The suddenness of Vergil's snarling against his skin, the way those hips shoved forward, the sensation of a warmth that Dante had not been entirely averse towards feeling suddenly flooding deep in his cunt - ah, fuck. Fuck. His eyes squeezed shut, Dante was feeling distinctly rubbery in the legs as he found Vergil twitching as he continued to thrust into him through his orgasm, unable to give up the idea of stopping it seemed as he ground into him with slowing movements before they came to an end. All Dante could hear was Vergil's panting, the air washing over where saliva and blood coated his skin. 

Neither of them seemed ready to budge for the time being, in truth, with Dante's fingers clamped down tight on the edge of the desk and with Vergil himself resting on top of his brother. The wood itself was somewhat marred by the fact that he'd added new gouges to the surface of the furniture and Dante let out a rough groan of protest at the damage he'd done to it. The sound didn't make Vergil stir and Dante wondered, even as he began to come back to himself properly, if his brother had passed out on him. The idea that maybe he had was somewhere between pride-inducing and hilarious. Vergil would never admit to it if he had passed out. Not him. He was too proud in general.

But, no, Dante could tell by his breathing that he was still awake and probably still aware. Vergil was not the kind of man who would let himself remain out of touch of the world for long, not with the way he'd been treated. While Dante didn't make mention of the scars he found on his brother now, neither did his twin volunteer anything in the way of information to him. They both kept their mouths shut and both of them didn't try to address the elephant in the room. No point of it. No point in that at all. He simply breathed out, his torso shifting a little in its own right as the itch in his body seemed to relax and unwind, as the tightness of his flesh grew more relaxed. Hell, it was one wonderful way to do things.

At last, though, he shifted his legs a degree, his awareness of the mess made out of his body leaving him with the itch to move and go get cleaned up. It'd be over and done with now, right? Or rather, that's what Dante wished to believe. Over and done with and nothing else to worry about despite knowing to the contrary that it wouldn't ever be so simple. If this was anything like the rough runs he'd had when he was years younger, it'd be a few days of nothing but the need to fuck and eat and sleep and then it'd disappear. Just like actually being sick. So it was that he wasn't expecting Vergil to suddenly growl with his motions.

"Don't move."

Something about his brother's voice had a ripple of sensation running down Dante's back and his mouth opened for a second. "Verge--?"

Another growl, this one deeper, more vicious. A flex of fingers on his sides. A sensation of claws digging into the skin, one or two breaking at last through the abused surface of his flesh. "I said," repeated the older of the two, "not to move, Dante. Remain very, very still."

What was that tone of voice? Not anger, no. He knew Vergil's anger and all the flavors it came in like the way he knew breathing. Dante could tell just how much tolerance his brother had left by the way he spoke through his anger. This? This wasn't anger. It was something else. Something just as visceral, just as heated. It was definitely, when it came down to it, something that stirred his guts with its promise even more than his brother's anger could and would do. It was enough, beyond enough, to make a shudder run down his spine. 

_Arousal._

"Verge?" managed Dante, his tone of voice a degree weaker with what he suspected. And then he was yelping in spite of himself, unable to keep quiet, as his brother's fangs dug into the abused meat of his shoulder.

"Don't move," hissed the older devil. "If you move, then I'm not going to be able to control myself. If you move--" and his hips twitched. His hips twitched and Dante understood what else had been so oddly natural that he'd paid no attention to it until now.

Vergil was still hard. Not only was he still hard, though, but he had made no move to pull back and free of Dante. The hunter imagined he could feel that dick still leaking into him in the next moments, his fingers flexing at the thought and his body tightening upon the dick that was still buried deep in his cunt. What a mess he was. What a goddamn mess they both were. But what had a slice of delicious fear running up his back and down his arms and spine was the growl that Vergil let loose with that response, his hips twitching to thud against Dante's own.

"Fuck! Verge, I'm--" he began. The snarl that escaped his brother was a threat and a promise. Not of violence, not of their usual violence. No, it was something else.

It was a fucking turn-on.

The idea that his brother was so intent on controlling himself sounded right. Vergil couldn't ever get his stick out of his ass. And the threat that he offered, the implications that came with it, that was something wild. It was something... ... Something that only appealed to Dante. He wondered what would happen if he poked that button. Wondered what Vergil would do. And Dante, being Dante, was going to jam on it with all of his might. That was just his nature, really. To be a little shit and annoy his twin if he had half a chance.

Or maybe not annoy. Maybe he wanted to do something more than annoy Vergil. Maybe, just maybe, he wanted to see how fragile his brother's thread of control over himself was in this moment. Maybe, oh, maybe - maybe Dante just wanted to provoke Vergil into going off on him in his own way. Into getting off the way he seemed to need to as much as Dante was getting off himself at that moment. After all, it had to have been a very long twenty years and more. It would be so very, very long when it came down to it. And he would relish the opportunity to help his brother out. Mutual benefit and all that, right? Well - that, plus the fact that he knew that he wanted to pry whatever response he could of his usual stuffy prig of an older brother. So, well aware he was treading in dangerous waters, Dante grinned sharply and then deliberately, so deliberately, moved.

The muscles in his vaginal canal tightened, even as he braced his feet, shoving upwards and backwards with those hips in response, and the noise that rattled out of Vergil's throat was profoundly satisfying. It was a snarl, deep and unrelenting, promising that he would be left sore come the morning indeed. He wondered if they'd be able to pry themselves away from one another. But even as he thought that, Vergil's teeth were sinking deep into his flesh once more. It was enough to make Dante shout again, hands curling into fists. And then Vergil's mouth was at his ear, words hissing through his teeth.

"You can't listen, can you-- I am trying to help you, trying to ensure that you will be tended to. I can control myself but not, not, if you keep that up. I can't-- Dante, you fucking idiot, I can't imagine stopping if you keep that up--" A breathy noise. "I want to fuck you so hard you'll be screaming my name for a week. I want to fuck you again and again in every way possible until I've left my mark on your body. I want nothing more than to feel you wrapped tight around my cock as you shudder in the throes of orgasm. And here you are-- just--" Was the hiss that burst from him like a geyser of steam frustration with Dante in general or sexual repression?

Whatever the case, Dante shifted again in that grip before he spoke, his own voice rough beneath the syllables with a threat of a growl that could not be undone. "What'samatter, Vergil? You never hesitated on threatening to break me before now. Don't see why you'd bother making an attempt to start just because you've gone and stuck your dick in me."

There was a decided moment of silence from the older twin before a growl sounded again. It wasn't with words that Vergil responded. It was the sudden absence of heat over Dante's back as he straightened up and a thrust that took Dante's breath away. He gasped, not quite so much of an exaggeration as he thought it would be, gasped again as his brother's cock thrust into his body once more. This wasn't the frenzied need of before, no. This was the edge taken off, the sensation of Vergil being able to take his time about things and leave them both letting loose with noise.

There was a prickling in the air, a sensation of his brother's power running over his skin, and that too was something that only stirred Dante's body up. Like the breathy promise of lightning ready to strike, no different from earlier. His muscles twitched as every thrust was delivered in that slow, hard pace that was stimulating -- and maddening. It was something wonderfully delicious and, at the same time, something that was going to leave Dante howling at the ceiling before long. What was most impressive was it wasn't scratching the building itch in his skin.

It was making it worse.

He wondered if Vergil knew he was making it worse. Wondered if his brother knew that he was teasing him in a way that wasn't fair in the goddamn least. Knowing Vergil the way he did? Yeah, Dante was pretty sure Vergil knew. It was why he had no problem throwing a "Vergil you fucking miserable bastard you're a fucking tease oh god oh fuck--" into the air. Not with his brother's hands on his body the way they were. 

The hand at his dick had been removed after stroking Dante once or twice, squeezing him, coming to be set on his back and the other remained at a hip. And Vergil? Vergil wasn't being so quiet this time around. If anything, he was puffing out soft growls and what sounded like words beneath his breath as he took his time. It wasn't the violent fucking that he seemed to have promised but a pushing, an edging, a way of teasing both himself and his brother. Dante was going to find some way to throw himself from the desk and take his brother down if he kept this up. He wasn't interested in something slow. Neither was the devil inside his veins. It too let out a snarl and it was only in the way that Vergil froze behind him that Dante understood it was a noise that had not been just in his head.

He'd actually made it aloud.

Ah. 

Fuck.

The stillness was not like the surface of a pond. It was the breathless silence before the plunge, the holding of air in the atmosphere before the lightning struck. It was the rattling quiet that preceded a tsunami, the way the roller coaster would hesitate at the top of the highest slope to heighten the anticipation. It was all of those and yet they paled in comparison to the way the air thickened in the office now. Whether it was a threat or something else, he wasn't sure. Challenging the devil inside of his twin at a moment like this seemed to be an epitome of a stupid idea. It seemed, to Dante, that his brains had leaked out of his ears. But hey, in his defense, this wasn't the kind of sex he'd wanted. 

... wasn't it? He could've triggered. Could've turned and thrown Vergil into the wall and snarled at him to leave and stay away and not touch him. Vergil had told him himself if he'd wanted, he would've left him alone and remained away until Dante had his head on straight. So - no, the truth was that he had wanted it, hadn't he? He'd challenged his brother, had pushed at him, had surrendered with only a token resistance. But then again, the hunter would've defended himself by the fact that it'd been a damn long time since he'd gotten laid and he and Vergil had always had a bond that was most definitely not that which humans would agree with. Ever. At all.

So he capitalized on the moment, spitting words he was only half-surprised to find were true over his shoulder. "You're the one talking 'bout how you can't control yourself, Vergil-- when the fuck was the last time you ever let yourself loose, huh? Always so goddamn high and mighty. You wouldn't know how to fuck even if it bit you in the ass-- I'm not gonna fucking break, even if you get rough with me."

And how the silence thickened before the noise that escaped Vergil was something that he'd never heard from him before. The power that prickled in the air was only growing stronger, a promise, a threat, a whispering caress of giving them both what they damn well wanted when it came down to it.

"You think -- " hissed Vergil, "you think that I'm going to hold back on you?" Even as he spoke, his weight shifted over Dante. "You have no idea of what I'm keeping in check, Dante--" And that earned a sudden kick, an impact of Dante's heel into one of his shins. The motion was so absurd that Vergil yelped and nearly jumped back himself. Nearly. Not quite yet, though. Not quite. His hands gripped hard enough to bruise, though.

"I do fucking think you're afraid of hurting me, yeah," Dante said, surprised to find himself angry. But perhaps not so surprised as that. "I do fucking think that you're holding back because you think letting loose will have me running away from you or something. Fuck me, Vergil. Fuck me like you actually goddamn well mean it. That or get off of me and I'll go damn well handle this myself--"

It was a sizzling of static in the air, a breathy heat that knocked into his lungs, a wash of power that suddenly bled like hot ozone across his flesh. Vergil's response was immediate and telling and when he spoke, his voice wasn't quite human. Not anymore. It had the distortion that came with the growing lack of control over their devil half, the burning depth of wicked delight that he knew his brother cherished unleashing on unsuspecting fools. 

"I see. Very well then, Dante. I understand."

Somewhere in his mind, Dante had a very concise thought. It was very simple. Very succinct. And very, very on point. 

_Oh. Fuck--_

And then the power was blooming in the air, the rush of sound where scales were curling from skin in changing nature. He'd seen Vergil show off once, the dark blue-black dots coming into view slowly. His brother was letting the devil swim closer to the surface, close enough that it was showing itself in this fashion, but he was not triggered. Not yet. He had this tendency to enjoy showing off a halfway state sometimes, even just hints of it. But to feel it in the midst of sex jolted Dante's libido into something else and he was twitching, bucking, unable to stop from growling once more.

His brother, of course, didn't hesitate to snarl back in his own right. Vergil could always manage to find some way to make things more complicated. But Dante adored that. It wasn't ever boring with him. Quiet and repetitious, maybe. But not boring. And all the resentment he'd been feeling earlier was bleeding away once more, if only for the time being. Maybe he'd change that in opinion when he figured out how well Vergil was actually going to fuck him, of course. And maybe, just maybe, it would mean something else. Dante didn't kno--

The snarl that broke into the air was the only warning he got before Vergil's hips were suddenly thrusting against his. Dante found his breath being punched from his lungs as Vergil's movements began rough and only quickened from there. The heavy smack-smack-smack of flesh on flesh was unable to be misconstrued if anyone else was in the shop, as if all their howling and yelling didn't give it away of what they were up to. If anything, Dante found himself decidedly glad that they weren't there, his friends and the people he'd called family in an attempt to fill a void left behind by the bastard behind him. But he was too busy feeling the jolting slam of those hips on his own as Vergil thrust deep into him, his hands moving to slide over Dante's body.

Clawed fingers - and they were claws, now, not just hints of them - were busy dragging over his back and leaving the younger of the Spardas to hiss and growl despite himself. He was shivering with the raw need that surged from him with this, the sensation that his brother was going to shake his bones loose from how hard that body pressed to his own with every inwards stroke. And even as Vergil's power bled into the air, Dante's own responded - which, of course, perpetuated the force of Vergil's power in turn. They were feeding on one another, but it felt so damn good. 

Dante's forehead thumped onto the surface of the desk as he gasped and panted, finding this a far better turn of things than the slower and more decisive movements of before. He wondered -- but no time for that, not right now. Not yet. Vergil was digging his claws into his brother's back and raking them downwards to cause great scratches to appear and that had his back arching. More scratches ensued when Vergil grabbed his forearms, claws digging in without mercy against his limbs and the movements of his hips began to grow even more aggressive than before.

The hunter had only enough room to shift his head, to see the way those limbs were changing, the way his brother was changing. Every thrust rocked him against the desk and he held onto it as best he could, moaning loud and long when able. But the juddering thrusts of his brother's cock into his body did manage to leave his noises hitching, half-abortive sounds ripping from the younger man's throat again and again. It was a staccato thing, the sounds he made, but Dante didn't think twice of not letting them out. If the way Vergil made such noises behind him said anything, he actually seemed to be enjoying them. But to be fair, the purring breathy imitations of growls from his brother were only stirring Dante up.

Yet it seemed that it was Vergil whose vaunted control seemed to be coming under fire now, an inability to hold himself back leading to his weight hunching over Dante's body as more power bled from him. Only somewhat coherent, Dante had enough presence of mind to have a very simple thought even as Vergil's fingers were wrapping around his erection once more. It was a thought that should've terrified him. It was a thought that should've made him cringe away. It was a thought that, when it registered, brought a rush of vicious delight that should have scared him in truth.

_He's triggering._

Over and over, those words rushed through Dante's thoughts. His brother's inner devil was showing itself and he couldn't stop the whimpers that were escaping his throat. The arousal that puddled in his belly was growing stronger now and he could feel Vergil's height expanding, could feel his brother's hands growing larger. He felt the rigid press of scales into his thighs and buttocks and calves, felt the increase in body heat on his own skin where Vergil bled off waste heat like a thermal reactor. And all it was doing was satisfying him on some level he could not understand, not without taking a hard look at things he usually avoided.

"Fuck--" he breathed again and again as his head dropped onto the desk. But more than the size of the body came the changes to his brother's cock.

Dante doubted he felt them at first, the ridges that were part of the change in anatomy. And then one of those tugged over his g-spot again as Vergil pulled his hips back and away from his flesh and Dante howled in spite of himself, spasming on the desk he was pinned against. They were pushing over the walls of his cunt now, his brother's cock swelling in proportion to the changes that came with his slow triggering and Dante found he was sure he could feel Vergil's control teetering on the edge of total collapse, the way a star threatened to go supernova when the pressures upon it grew too great to bear.

God, but he really wanted to find out if he could prompt that in his brother.

The fact that Vergil wasn't stopping, that his hips were grinding into Dante's own, was only working up the hunter even more fully. Dante found himself panting, groaning, as his own hips twitched and no matter that he found himself climbing yet again towards another orgasm ( and he'd lost count of how many this was by now; all he knew was that it felt like there was a fever burning in his skin by this point. The more that Vergil scratched that itch, the hotter he felt. ), his brother's hips were thrusting against his body again and again. He felt the changes, felt Vergil's power crackling on his skin. It made the hunter claw at his desk with hands that were fading into black from the midarm up, snarling as loudly as he could in response to his brother's aggressive fucking and Vergil bent over him with one of those metallic flanging snarls that said that he was stepping away from the realm of humanity.

Really, Dante knew that he shouldn't be turned on like this but he'd always gotten worked up in his own right after a good fight. And while he wouldn't have bent over and let a demon fuck him, not without it proving that it had the right to do so of course, there was something about having a devil this powerful at his back, mounting him, fucking him, stuffing its cock deep into the wet depths of his pussy, that had Dante shuddering and trying not to mewl in his own way. He didn't know what response to go with, but anger? Anger always worked. Anger worked real well and he was twisting, squirming, somewhere between compliance with the fucking and needing to fight back, to prove that he wasn't just giving in and rolling over to show his throat and belly. No matter that it was Vergil. In fact, it was _because _it was Vergil. He'd never give him the satisfaction. Not him.

Vergil's hips were slamming into his brother's by now, the swelling of the power only bleeding more fully into the air and leaving Dante to gasp out his name again and again in broken hitches of those syllables, spit running down his chin as his eyes watered from the overload of pleasure in that moment. He was drooling on himself and on whatever was on his desk and the wood and he didn't give a singular fuck. This felt too good. This felt fucking amazing. His legs jerked and twisted, trying to move enough to hook behind those thighs and hold on with them even as Vergil's hands moved. One massive paw came to rest on Dante's back, the other grabbing a thigh and that limb became hoisted upwards and to the side, the heavy weight of that cock finding a different angle and leaving the ridges to thrust and drag over the interior of Dante's body again and again. He wondered how it'd feel to have his brother fuck his ass like this, wondered what it'd feel like to have those same ridges dragging along his prostate.

Dante really wanted to find out.

The air in his lungs seemed to have been evacuated some time ago because his head was spinning; every harsh thump of Vergil's body into his own was drawing noises he couldn't even classify anymore as proper noise, snarls and sighs and moans of pleasure all escaping Dante as the figure changed and grew in size, became larger. And more than that, he could feel something else taking shape. Something else that felt like a bulb that was swelling at the base of his brother's dick. Oh gods. Was that what he thought it was? Dante had seen demons in states of arousal before, interrupting them more than once in the state of coitus when he'd been on jobs before now. The dominant figures had sometimes been unable to get away from their partner and he understood in a hot flash of lust what it was. 

He understood what Vergil was going to do with him.

"Ah fuck-- fuck-- gods Vergi-- f-- _**ahh-- **uhhh-ck!_"

Well aware he was babbling, what really did it for Dante at that moment was the sudden upsurge of his brother's power as he fully transformed, his hulking figure hunched over the more human shape on the desk. Something about feeling the pulse of that power deep in his groin while his twin fucked his brains out had Dante howling and clawing at the wood once more with heavy fingers as his vaginal canal spasmed and tightened, the depths of his pussy closing as tightly as they could about the invasive length of his twin's cock. The power dancing over his groin had been added to by one singular factor. Vergil had slid one large hand downwards and had taken a single claw, just one, and dragged it over the swollen aching nub of his clit. And that, Dante thought muzzily, was definitely all she wrote. More than all she wrote. He was going to die. He was going to ascend to the heavens and never come back down. But what jarred him back to reality was the noise that his brother made.

Vergil's hands clamped on his waist suddenly and his fucking, if it'd been powerful before, had changed to heavy thrusts that slammed Dante against the wood with such force that he knew that if he'd been a regular human, this would've killed him. He knew that deep in his gut and his groin that his brother was about to lose it. Again and again that heavy cock was pumping into his body, pulling back, pushing forward again and again and again and--

And--

And then his twin was pushing forward into him, deep as he could go, and Dante found himself letting out a noise that was somewhere between the sluttiest noise he'd ever heard himself make; a long moan of raw pleasure for some damn reason, and a snarling that was a challenge yet again as his inner devil writhed in his own pleasure but still refused to give up. It was cut off as the long needles of his brother's teeth sank into the crook of shoulder and neck as that knot inflated within his body, forcing Dante's body to spread open around his dick. Even as his twin knotted him, even as Dante felt the sudden and heavy weight of it within his groin, it only sent a flashfire burn of something feeling so goddamn right through his body while it appeased those instincts. Between the knotting, the snarling of a sheer dominant nature he wasn't surprised that Vergil kept well under wraps with everyone else but him, the pulsing thrust of his hips where he was trapped, and the blooming of sudden wet heat deep in his groin ( in his fucking _womb_, a voice somewhere in his head whispered ), Dante wasn't surprised when he got off.

Again.

Vergil's hips kept trying to push and thrust against him, making his knot shift and grind deep within Dante's body and he was well aware of hoarse sobbing of pleasure escaping his throat. Or at least he was aware of it distantly. He didn't remember the last time he'd been this fucked, this filled, this goddamn satisfied by someone. And the person who'd put him in this state wasn't just anyone. It wasn't just any random stranger he'd picked up in a bar. It wasn't even his dildos which, while they'd been good, wouldn't compare to what he had now. It was his own brother. His brother that he'd been without for so long. But Dante could ask him about it later. At the moment, he was too busy being disconnected from his body and being left adrift on a sea of raw euphoria where nothing mattered but the sensation of that weight at his back, the teeth that had punched through his skin, the heavy panting breaths that Vergil was letting out that could've been blasts of steam for all he knew. 

Shit, if his brother fucked like this, no wonder he couldn't find anyone worth doing it with. He'd kill that person from pleasure alone, nevermind with the force of his fucking. Dante himself was sure his own bones had all turned to rubber at this point. What was it that Vergil had promised him? That he'd need help walking before he was through? Sounded about right. Sure, Dante hadn't believed him at the time because how could his prissy prig of a twin even know what to do with his own dick - but he'd been very clearly proven wrong by this little escapade of theirs. His legs dangled a bit, toes pressing into the floor but without much weight to them. His body was caught on his brother's cock and with the repeated sensation of his own orgasms that'd burned through him, Dante sincerely doubted he could have moved in that moment even if he'd absolutely had to.

Nothing was really in focus for his brain and it took him a few moments to realize the tugging to the wound on his body, the newer one, was in fact the barbed surface of his brother's tongue rubbing over it as he licked at the blood he'd drawn. That, in turn, earned a "you're such a fuckin' freak, verge," from Dante as he heard the soft rustling of his brother's wings while they draped on the desk around them both. Warm as he was, filled to the brim by cock and cum alike, worn out from his repeated excursions into the realm of fucking and being fucked by his brother, it was no wonder that Dante found himself drifting towards sleep. 

The snort that answered him jarred him awake for a moment. "Takes one to know one, Dante," came the answer in a voice that was and wasn't Vergil's. It was too metallic, too rasping, but the words and the underlying notes were definitely his brother's. That made the younger twin smirk wearily for a second before he gave his head a tired shake and a soft groan ensued as Vergil's weight shifted on top of him.

"Nngh-- fuck, Verge. Don't move. 'M gonna be sore enough as it is when I can feel my body again."

The barest hint of his brother's tail thumping the floorboards of the shop reached his ears and that was enough to make Dante feel a sparkle of indignation, a bubbly sensation that sparkled in his veins.

"You're fucking proud of yourself, aren't you." It came out far more accusation than question.

"Why wouldn't I be?" came the lofty response as that monstrous head dipped to leave Vergil nuzzling at his brother's cheek. "I have satisfied you thoroughly, for now, and I know that your body will desire more soon enough. Not for some hours yet. But I have enjoyed tending to you, Dante. I know I will enjoy the course of your heat for however long it lasts." 

"Uh-huh." For one moment, Dante found himself wondering -- just for a second -- what might happen if this continued. Would he even have reason of thought enough to get out of the shop later to go buy a few morning after pills? He knew he had the full anatomical plumbing down there. And then another thought came to mind. Himself, swollen and heavy with child, his brother's child-- of Vergil nuzzling at his groin, his tongue pushing deep into his body, of Vergil purring and curling around him and--

It made his dick twitch.

Shit.

Of course that twitch in his groin also translated into his pussy and Dante heard the twitching chuff of his brother's attention in the way his breathing shifted and he knew he should head that off right now. Otherwise they were both going to be more of a mess than they were now and he was shifting an arm, ignoring the inhuman claw his hand had become, to drive an elbow backwards into the thick hide covering his brother's body. It wasn't much of a gesture, but it was enough to seemingly distract Vergil for the moment as he grunted deep in his throat in what seemed to be annoyance at the thump of the sharp joint of elbow under his ribs.

"Can't you change back yet?" He said over his shoulder as Dante flexed his legs a little. He was so tired he was ready to crawl onto the nearest soft surface and pass out for several hours but the manic energy that his sexual season brought with it wouldn't let him rest just yet. That, and neither would the sensation of his brother's cock lodged in him. The weight of that knot was warm within his body, a natural plug to keep all of that cum stuffed deep for the best chance at potential reproduction. Gods but Dante prayed that nothing would come of it, no matter that brief moment of whatever the absolute _fuck **that **_had been when it came down to it. "I don't feel like cuddling on top of my desk until your dick deflates enough to let you out, Vergil."

A long moment of silence ensued before Vergil spoke up and, if Dante didn't know better, he would've called the way his brother responded was evasive. Even sheepish. Whatever it was, he had that lofty distant tone he usually got when he wasn't trying to openly admit that he'd somehow fouled up along the way. "... I already tried."

And that had Dante turning to squint one eye gummy with the tears of pleasure at his brother, his own incandescent blue stare bright beneath the heavy dark spikes of his lashes. "What do you mean you tried?"

The growl that Vergil let out was, in its entirety, everything that Dante expected of him. "I mean, brother, that I've tried to release the trigger and it won't let itself free. I -- suspect I won't be able to change back until my--" and for once, Vergil stumbled over his own words. The man could say such filth in the middle of fucking him, but at a moment like this, he choked. "... Until my knot deflates."

Dante stared. He didn't say anything. He simply stared at him.

Vergil stared back, the defensive posture evident even in a moment like this.

"... Are you serious."

"I didn't know! How was I to know that would be the case, Dante! It's not as if I have much experience with this sort of thing!"

"I would think you'd have some idea at least, verge! You're the one who's always happy to be hoity-toity about our powers and what you know and rubbing my face in my lack of knowing anything about it!"

A growl sounded deep in that chest and Vergil gave his horned head a sharp shake for one brief moment.

"Besides, verge - if I had thought that I was gonna be stuck on your dick for the next however long minutes, I would've insisted we at least fucked on the sofa or on my bed!"

Those words drew a moment of silence between them before Vergil spoke, his voice thoughtful. Even through the monstrous face peering down at him, Dante could see him as if he weren't changed. The tilt of his head. Those eyes shifting up and to the right in thought. A movement of his mouth as he considered the words and the merits behind them without thinking too much.

"If you wish to be in bed, I can take us there."

The sheer idea of being in bed and passing out after all of this had Dante sigh a longing noise before he muttered "well what the fuck else are we gonna do? I'm not sleeping on my desk, Vergil." 

He'd done that too many times when he'd sunk into the haze of an alcoholic stupor. Whatever the case, though, his brother shifted and then moved to straighten up. One of his arms shifted to wrap around Dante's torso and he was being lifted upwards until his back was against the heated warmth of his brother's chest. But the result had his body sliding down even more fully onto that cock, the knot edging deeper, the head of his brother's dick pushing against a spot in a way that was a little painful - and a little enjoyable, where he knew it shouldn't have been.

"Fuck--"

Vergil's other arm wrapped around him and then his brother paused and made a noise deep in his throat. Dante's head, lolling back against his brother's shoulder as he reached up to loop his fingers together behind Vergil's neck, shifted a little.

"Vergil?"

His brother didn't stare, but the burning depths of those blue eyes were not on his face, Dante knew. He hesitated -- then looked downwards in spite of himself. And what he saw was enough to push another wave of lust through his own body as he tightened out of sheer reflex and, maybe, a hint of fear.

There, yes, there -- his lower stomach bulged, a hillock of flesh that -- yes, he knew what that was. Oh fuck. Something about seeing the bulge of his brother's cock where it was lodged in his own body drew a noise that was most definitely a whimper out of Dante. No matter what he thought of himself, he absolutely could not deny that sound had come out of his own throat. Nor could he deny that it was affecting him. He was feeling strung out but the weight of his hormones had him feeling the sheer need for more all of a sudden.

Yet the weight of the repeated waves of pleasure was enough to leave him feeling worn down. What a discrepancy it was for himself. He allowed a tired groan before he was rolling his weight against Vergil's hold. 

"Take me to bed, Verge. Or I'm gonna pass out on you just like this."

A low "hm." answered him before the wings that sprouted from his brother shifted briefly and he was lifting them both into the air for a moment. It was not flight so much as a hop to bring them to the top of the stairs. That tail whacked into the bannister for a moment and Vergil growled softly against his ear for a second before another hop took them to the bedroom. Every movement had his brother's cock tugging at where it was secured in his body, causing soft and breathy noises to brush through the air from Dante's lungs. He knew Vergil was simply listening to him, his arms tight around Dante as if he were never going to let him go, knew that it was part of the way Vergil moved - and honestly, Dante was impressed that he managed to get to the bedroom given his larger size and the width of the hallway - but it still stimulated him.

It took a moment of arranging those wings to ease them through the open doorframe and towards the bed that Dante knew was a bit rickety. The bedframe was old, but still sturdy. He knew Vergil would judge it. But there was a growl rising from his brother again and those hips shifted, pushing against his own, a noise rising like a crescendo of a snarl from the triggered man whose dick wouldn't be coming free - not without a lot of pulling and tugging. The idea that it would be painful should have been enough to make Dante hesitate. It should have been enough to make him know he shouldn't ever suggest it.

But Dante was finding himself -- aroused. Aroused by the idea of Vergil having more with him. He groaned, far more at himself, than from the fact that Vergil hunched and gave his wings a flex to propel them to the bed. But the sensation of that cock tugging at his body didn't help and he was squirming in spite of himself as Vergil lowered them down onto the bed. It creaked in an alarming fashion due to his brother's weight, the increase in it, shuddered just enough to make Vergil growl against his shoulder for a moment. Then there were teeth against his skin as his brother spoke up, that echoing voice carrying with it a hint of the usual exasperation that his twin usually bore when dealing with him at any given time, no matter what. It was nice to know some things hadn't changed, even when they were bound together in a fashion that Dante had never seen forthcoming.

"Will you hold still?" came the hiss. "I thought you wanted to sleep, Dante."

His hands twitched and flexed against the hunter's battered body as he spoke, betraying that Dante was not the only one riddled with hormones. He had for a moment, just a moment, a flash of insight into his brother's state of mind. After all, Vergil hadn't gotten off with anyone for years and years - and now, here he was, unable to slip out of his trigger due to the knotting and unable to move. To fuck him as much as Dante could guess he wanted to. Even the thought of that had his dick, which had finally begun going limp over his own thighs, starting to perk up. A tired groan escaped him and Dante squirmed as best he could, hips and limbs shifting against Vergil's hold on him as his brother's wings blanketed his body as if to keep him warm.

"Fuck, Verge - I've never been this -- this --" How to put it. "Look, I'm all keyed up and it's your fucking fault for being around and as tired as I am now, my body wants to keep fucking. Like it's keyed up on this nervous energy or something." A growl twisted the last word, strangling it before it developed too far into the syllables but he knew that Vergil could understand him as well. They always understood one another, no matter what happened. And Dante could appreciate that fact tremendously at a time like this.

A breathy gust of warm, damp air was breathed out against his sweat-laden skin and the scruffier of the two let out a faint whimper once more. His nerves were jangling from the overwrought nature they had at the moment, his body seemed unable to settle down, and all he wanted was for Vergil to roll him onto his hands and knees and screw him without any sort of mercy until he blacked out. That'd be good, right? One of Dante's own hands shifted, moved to touch at his stomach for a moment, and he could feel the heated head of his brother's cock pressing through the abdominal wall against his palm. That, and that alone, was more than enough fuel to get his dick hard again and Dante knew he'd be jerking off whenever Vergil was absent to the memory of so much of this - and that sensation in particular.

"Dante--" came the hiss. "Stop. You will sleep if you settle down."

"Do I fucking look settled down to you, Vergil?" He snapped back over his shoulder. "I just fucking said I feel wired enough to go dancing for the rest of the night." 

The sigh that sounded was pure Vergil, all pissy like Dante had just done something gauche and tasteless but his proper, prissy brother wouldn't make any sort of comment on it for some time, choosing to keep it in reservation for now. Instead, Vergil shifted his limbs, one leg easing to press a clawed foot to the bed. Dante only wondered what his sheets would look like after they were through. Probably they'd be shredded by claws and teeth. Oh well. They were old. So was the bed. Both needed replacing when it came down to it. Not that he or Vergil would complain in the least.

But what distracted him was the sensation of his brother's hand moving. One arm was pinned down, of course, by the fact that Dante was laying on it. The other one, though - that one was stroking over his upper chest, claws trailing over the slopes of his collarbones. Dante had always been somewhat sensitive to touch, but he was amazed at how Vergil's rough hide playing over his skin was a stimulus all its own. Those clawed fingers eased this way and that upon the area before they began to ease downwards. A gasp escaped Dante when the curving slope of one caught across a nipple and he felt the pleased rumble from Vergil before he even heard it. That accomplished, the older of the two permitted himself to do that a second time, a third, before his attentions eased to the other side of his brother's chest and Dante found himself twitching with every scrape of claw over areola or nipple alike. 

It had to have been minutes that Vergil spent on the spots, minutes of his paying attention to Dante's flesh and leaving the younger man feeling the need to squirm just from the application of claws alone. And when he felt the flushing to his skin, that was of course when Vergil's hand began to move. Yet, despite the erotic edge to this, it was also somehow relaxing. Vergil's fingers lingered and stroked and muscles tight and quivering with attention slowly relaxed somehow while Vergil's hand eased down further and yet further still.

Damn, but he was good at this. 

Even though arousal edged around Dante's awareness, he couldn't deny that what Vergil was doing was relaxing him. It felt damn good, in all honesty, and the younger of the two sighed. Despite the fact that his body was aroused, despite the fact that he still wanted more, the achingly gentle nature of how Vergil touched him was ... It was something he had never thought his brother would do. That was just the honest truth. Vergil never came off the sort of guy who would ever, ever do something like this for his partner. But then again, Dante suspected that his brother's presentation of being a cold fish was because of a number of reasons. He was a judgmental disdainful bastard after all.

But down and down that hand moved, fingers rubbing slow circles around Dante's thighs as the cock wedged in his body twitched and pulsed; so tightly was Dante's body bound to it at the moment that he could feel every minute shift in that part of Vergil's anatomy and his own muscles were quick to squeeze down again and again, stimulating with his internal walls where they weren't able to do so on their own. But if Vergil matched him in anatomy-- if his brother had a cunt too-- Dante wondered. Then the wondering was gone by the sensation of large fingers palming his erection. His own distraction worked against him and he let out a throaty sound as his eyes closed, trying to thrust against the rough warmth.

Dante had never tried to feel his own hide when he was triggered, beyond being aware that it was heavy and thick, scaled in natural armor, providing protection in the fights he got into so often. But he was aware, too, that his control over it was not as fine as Vergil's. He exploded in power, letting loose without hesitation and displaying everything at once. Vergil? Vergil just took his time about it. He'd seen it before, the rising of sapphire scales and the darkening of his skin before the older twin melded into it. His palm was rough, textured like dry leather that'd been cracked and mended over with oils, and it felt good over the head of his cock. They weren't speaking again, sure, but for different reasons this time.

So it was a surprise when Vergil murmured something against his shoulder, the soft clicks of tooth on tooth telling Dante about it even more than the faint working of his jaw did. The older man didn't raise his voice, didn't share what he was saying, but something about the tone of it had a shiver rippling down Dante's spine. Something about it was the air of reverence, a worship murmured into the altar of his flesh, the supplicant come to plead to what he cherished above all others. How telling it was. But Vergil had ever been intent on him, even before he'd been aware of his brother's feelings. And those, ah, those were something he should've seen from a mile away in Dante's opinion. How fascinating, to him, to know that Vergil held such sanctity so fully to his own chest.

But the hand was moving, his cock caught between the massive palm and the long fingers. The size of Vergil's hand meant that he couldn't stroke Dante in the traditional way, but he did allow two fingers to shift, to trap Dante's cock between them, stroke them down to the base and up in a drag to the head before repeating the gesture. It was slow, unhurried, carefully casual. And it was doing Dante in. He was leaking and aware he was going to be drinking water without cease once he woke up to stave off dehydration, but it didn't matter to him, not right then. 

Slicks of precum were dripping from the head of his cock, sliding over his own skin and adding a bit of friction to the area. Vergil was no less thorough with this part of his anatomy than he'd been with Dante's cunt and that, the hunter could admit, was something of a relief in its own right. After all, part of him had been somewhat nervous that Vergil had been interested in him only because of the fact that he did possess both sets of sexual organs. Maybe that would've hurt more. Maybe less. He'd ask him later. But that would be later and this, right now, was what he needed. It was enough to make him growl faintly, flutter his eyes shut, to shift and move as best he could.

Unlike the frenzied fucking on the desk, his twin built him up with slow strokes of attention, tracing the hook of his thumb's claw over the glans of his cock from time to time before resuming the slow tug with his fingers to compensate for his lack of being able to give Dante a proper handjob. It was somehow even better than the scratching of that initial itch had been, as if it was softening the jagged edges of his nerves and polishing them to make the pleasure from this resonate throughout his body. It was a revelation in its own right and Dante could not complain. No, he wanted more, more, more -- and he'd demand it all until Vergil gave it to him the way he desired. That was the beauty of it.

Vergil gave him what he wanted. What he needed. And Dante could only appreciate that fact here and now, wrapped up in his brother's embrace in a union that would've probably made most people view them with revilement and disgust. It was strangely liberating, as well, to realize that he did not give one absolute fuck about that fact.

Perhaps he should have, perhaps he should have cared, should have understood he was definitely in new territory. But that didn't matter. All Dante cared about in that moment was the pleasure that washed over him in the slow building of heat in his veins. Maybe this was what he'd needed even more than that frenetic energy of a good fuck. Maybe this was what his body said was important. Whatever the case, he was feeling the tightening of pressure building in his groin, the muscles in his abdomen beginning to tense as did the muscles in his thighs, his lower back. Vergil's arm shifted under him, pulled him closer still, and a growling sounded in the air. Not words, no, not words - but a deep burring of noise.

His eyes squeezed shut, his brow furrowed, Dante's mouth came open when the orgasm washed over him. It was a slow burn, a hissing of pleasure in his flesh that made him tremble with the weight of it. And it seemed to be, at last, enough for his body. Enough to finally leave him beginning to sink into the cloudy darkness of sleep as everything began to fuzz around the edges and he panted quietly. There was nothing left to give from his body in terms of cum or in energy. Even so, he felt a terrific thrill as a following warmth burned in his abdomen. So he hadn't been the only one to get off from that, had he? No, not at all. But Vergil simply shifted and curled around him and Dante knew he was going to be leaking when his brother changed back and withdrew from his body. 

Ah well.

He'd deal with it later.

And with that thought in mind, Dante allowed himself to surrender to sleep even as Vergil's monstrous features nuzzled at his hair and soft purring filled the room to lull him into the best rest he'd had in ages.

-⁛-

Over the next week, Dante came to find out a few things. The first of which was that Vergil's libido, once it was worked up, seemed to refuse to quit. He wasn't sure if it was the fact that they were both in this state or what, but more than once, Dante found his brain fried from the repeated orgasms his brother wrung out of his body. 

The second thing was that his brother fucking _cuddled_. He would wrap around Dante, either from the front or from behind him, even laying on him more than once, settle into a comfortable spot, and just fucking purr outright. It happened more after they'd gone a few rounds in terms of fucking, but even when Dante was heading into the depths of sleep, he carried the sound with him down into the blackness of rest.

The third thing? The third thing was that Dante didn't mind a whit. But the fucking was glorious and, for once, Vergil didn't turn his nose up at the sight of pizza boxes that Dante would tote in from the lobby into the kitchen. With the amount of energy they were burning - especially Vergil since he'd triggered more than once - it was only natural they'd both go for a high calorie food.

And Vergil at least made sure he had a few full bottles of water available to him at all times.

They did it everywhere. 

On the bed, against the wall, on the couch, at least three more times on his desk which left the surface covered with more scratches, in the shower, in the garage attached to the shop, on the roof, in every room - even the kitchen wasn't safe or the basement. Vergil would trail after him and Dante quickly learned the growling purr when his brother was about to grab at him.

He still wasn't sure if he was happy or not as to whether the sound got his dick to perk up and his cunt to clench with arousal whenever he heard it. Some goddamn trained response he would've said at any other time.

But Dante found that one thing was truly the selling factor for him. One thing and one thing alone made him quietly content and willing to tolerate this for as long as it lasted and that was the simple fact that Vergil remained by his side and attended his every need without complaint. He would sigh at Dante, growl, even let out those sharp and incisive remarks he so cherished - but he would also curl around Dante in his sleep, nuzzle him, purr him into wakefulness or slumber as needed.

That and Vergil really seemed to enjoy eating him out after he'd left a mess of his own cum in Dante, be it in his ass or his cunt.

They traded scratches and bites freely, the marks healing over rather quickly, but few times did they kiss. It was almost as if kissing was taboo. But whatever the case, Dante could feel the feverish heat and his libido both subsiding close to the end of the week after what this was had begun. It was the last night before the fever broke that he found himself laying in his bed atop Vergil, his head on his brother's chest with Vergil's cock buried in his cunt once more, while those skilled fingertips rubbed over the back of his neck.

The silence wasn't unwelcome but Dante had things on his mind. Things he wanted to ask Vergil about. So he finally sighed and shifted, enjoying the delicious ache in his body, before he was moving to fold his forearms over Vergil's collarbones and lift himself enough to peer down into the face of his twin. Those sharp eyes had come open with his movements and, no matter how many times it'd happened before now, Dante found himself feeling startled ever so faintly when he met the stare that worked on pinning him in place. Neither of them was dumb, no.

But they did both keep to their own thoughts and views, didn't they?

Still, Vergil's hands moved and came to settle on his thighs, legs shifting in the tangled mess of the sheets on the bed. The bed, which Dante thought ruefully, had put up a valiant effort. But the bedframe had broken on the third night and he was going to have to get a new one. A new bed. One big enough for both of them instead of his being wedged against the wall. A long inhale ensued before he finally met those eyes, unsure of where to start. Yet Vergil, nominally impatient with his brother in all things, merely lifted an eyebrow and waited for him to speak up.

When he did, the words that emerged surprised Dante more than they did his brother, he was sure.

"... So. Are we going to keep doing this when my cycle is over and done with and all the hormones are done burning in my system? Or is this just you playing a good big brother and tending to my needs?"

If he'd offended his twin, Vergil hid it well. He didn't immediately answer Dante as he often did - and the hunter chose to take that as a good sign. While Vergil could fire off a response quick as Dante could pull the trigger on one of his guns, his taking time to answer any question was a good thing. It meant he was taking his time in thinking as to what he should say.

A sigh ensued before Vergil's eyes narrowed faintly up at him, fingers digging slightly into the meat of Dante's legs. "I had thought we would continue this, Dante. What, did you truly think that I would simply stop fucking you after I've been unable to do so for so long?"

Something about hearing Vergil saying such a word sent a dirty thrill through the scruffier twin, but those words had his head jerking back slightly in startlement.

"-- what do you mean being unable to do so--?"

The eyeroll he got at that was legendary and Vergil's tone of voice, when he responded, could've evaporated an entire ocean from the dryness it contained.

"Think, Dante. If I had not been interested in this - in you - then surely I would've found some place to ensconce myself while you burned with your hormones. My needs were powerful, yes, but not to the point of losing my own self-control. Surely you didn't think that I decided to do this only because of the way your scent sang in the air?" 

"... Uh. Well--"

Now his brother looked annoyed with him and the bite of nails into his skin told Dante that just as clearly as any other part of this.

"You are a blind fool," Vergil said quietly. "I have wanted you for a long time, Dante. Longer than you could possibly imagine. This was not just hormone driven whimsy for me. But if we are to continue, then the choice is yours and not mine. But if we do continue --" now that voice changed, something in it darkly possessive in a manner that would've made any human shudder with a hint of fear.

It was most definitely not fear that Dante shuddered with.

"If we do continue this, Dante, then it means that you will be mine just as I will be yours. My interests do not extend beyond you-" A lie, Dante thought. Definitely a lie if the way he'd seen Vergil eye Nero once or twice said anything. But it had seemed more curiosity than anything like attraction to him. "But that also means I am not a man to share what is mine. I will not share you. If we pursue this, then you will be mine for good. I will let no other have you, human or devil or demon. And I will defend you so long as you will have me from any threats to our sanctity."

It was typical Vergil speech, full of words and rounded long-winded talking. Dante didn't mind it. He got more concerned if Vergil used slang instead of speaking with the usual air of someone with a thesaurus crammed up their ass. But he got the meaning. He understood it, even as he found his hand cupping his brother's face. The way Vergil looked up at him was wary. Neither twin did emotional vulnerability very well and any time it did happen was somehow significant. The air was breathless between them for a second or two before the crimson hunter hunched downwards to press his mouth to his brother's.

"You're a piece of shit, Verge," said the younger of the two quietly as his hand flexed against his brother's face. "But you're my piece of shit. I ain't letting you go. Not ever again." Twenty four years without one another had been an eternity. And Dante would never let his brother escape him. Not ever again.

-⁛-

It was about a month later when Nero finally showed up from one of his jobs, something that'd involved a lot of frantic phone calls to the shop and Dante running to grab books of the occult for Vergil who'd been yelling instructions down the line to his son about what to do and he'd heard something about dried squirrel guts or something like that and had promptly chosen to zone out. Whatever it'd been, it had been effective and had worked. Honestly, Dante was just glad it took that long because he couldn't walk right for about four days when the fever-heat finally broke in his body and he felt like he was waddling everywhere. Took two weeks at least to air the smell of sex out of the shop too.

Nero was still in one piece at least when he turned up again at the shop. Cranky as usual, sure, but definitely still in one piece. Dante was glad of that. With how protective Vergil seemed to be growing of his son, he didn't want to imagine what would happen if he turned up missing an eye or another arm or something like that. Hell, he knew Vergil would lose it. He was that kind of personality when it came down to it. And it told Dante a lot about his brother and why he had been the way he'd been when he'd been younger and shittier than he was now.

Nico had accompanied him, of course, but she was outside doing her chain smoking since Vergil had told her very bluntly that he would choke her with her cigarettes if she smoked in the shop. She hadn't been offended, at least, had even laughed and winked at him and told him he could choke her any day. It'd been surreal to see Vergil smirk at her with sharp teeth and comment that she'd definitely like it too much. Of course he'd ignored the look Nero and Dante had shot one another.

Still, things had been going alright until Nero had noticed the surface of his desk. He had wandered over to grab a pad of paper and a pen and had stopped for a moment, just staring at the gouges in the wood for a long moment before he spoke up, voice confused and alarmed.

"What the fuck happened here?"

Dante turned from exiting the kitchen with reheated pizza to see where Nero was and found himself trying not to flush even as he felt Vergil's eyes on him.

"Uh. Demon attack."

A long period of silence filled the lobby of the shop before Vergil snorted and turned his head, a hand lifting in order to leave his fingertips scratching over his mouth. If Dante didn't know better, he would swear on his deed to the shop that he was actually trying to hide a smirk of actual humor. His brother. Mister prissy pants. Trying not to laugh. But he glanced back to see Nero staring at them with acute suspicion in his features.

"A demon attack?" he said as he jerked his head towards the scratches. "Those?"

"Yeah," responded Dante with a challenging snap of his voice. "Demon attack. Nasty fucker. Real big and mean. Decided to try using my desk as a battering ram."

The noise that escaped Vergil was strangled.

Nero's eyes were tracking between the two of them, slow and steady, before he dropped a disbelieving "_uh-huh_" at them both before repeating what Dante had said. "Demon attack. Battering ram. ... And what the fuck is wrong with the old man?"

Dante, sighing as he put the pizza box on the surface of his desk and covering the scratches in the process, only found himself smirking as he answered the youngest Sparda.

"Don't know. But I'm glad he's working out his frustrations. Aren't you?"

Nero just stared at them once more before he muttered "freaks." Well - that, and he was giving Vergil a somewhat alarmed stare for the fact that the strangled laughter was becoming laughter outright.

Dante just grinned as he put his feet up, grabbing a slice of pizza and taking a bite out of it. What a fine day this was going to be, even as Nero stared at his father in alarm for Vergil's continued quiet laughing fit. He wasn't going to bother saying what was going on. Neither was Vergil. Nero didn't need to know, after all. And it was kind of fun seeing him edging away from his father for the fact that Vergil was displaying an actual sense of humor.

A fine day indeed.


End file.
